


the royal road isn't going to be the easiest path

by crushing83



Series: The Adventures of Stellah Stardust [4]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Nick Sorrentino, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Behind the Scenes, Clay is on Stiles' side, DemiPan Stiles Stilinksi, Demisexual Stiles Stilinski, Drag Queen Nick Sorrentino, Drag Queen Stiles Stilinski, Drag Race Episode 01, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, I don't mean to offend anyone, I have no idea what I'm doing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, McCall Pack, McCall Pack is no longer Stiles' pack, Mentions of Lydia Martin - Freeform, Mentions of Scott McCall - Freeform, Mentions of various Drag Queens, Pronoun Switching, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is a contestant on RuPaul's Drag Race, a slow burn in a fast slide, an attempt at behind the scenes, and his attraction isn't defined by gender or sex, because time has passed, discussion of McCall Pack, he doesn't feel physical attraction unless he has an emotional connection first, mentions of Danny Kahealani, seriously, things have happened, vague discussion of character death, vague discussion of past events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24127873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: A continuation of the previous story, picking up where it ended. The first "week" of the competition pits Stiles against the other contestants in a three-looks runway challenge. While struggling to design and build his costumes, he gets to know the other queens (and befriends some of them), learns there's more than he can see going on behind the scenes, and leans on Clay while trying to deal with the production assistant who won't leave him alone.
Relationships: Cora Hale/Nick Sorrentino, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The Adventures of Stellah Stardust [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1355965
Comments: 29
Kudos: 72





	the royal road isn't going to be the easiest path

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't write just the show. Instead, I tried writing a narrative mostly from a behind-the-scenes/contestant perspective, so it includes moments that may or may not be in the show. I also included moments from confessionals and reviews. To show what is excluded from clips of the show and associated review programmes, I used round brackets. For instance, in a confessional section, some conversation between Stiles and the producer might be inside of brackets—and that means it isn't included in the show's final edit. I didn't do this with the narrative from Stiles' perspective (events that occur during the segregated show filming time) because I'm writing the sequestered time as Stiles living through the experience, instead of trying to produce a whole episode. Hopefully this isn't confusing. If it is, let me know, and I'll consider something else going forward. 
> 
> And I apologise for any bad mistakes in the writing. I finished this a month ago, and it's been like pulling teeth to get me to edit it. I did a second pass last night, and instead of waiting another week or two (I have a lot of projects on the go right now, because my brain is all over the place and not handling current events as stoically as I would prefer), I decided to post it today to clear it off my list of distractions. I hope you still enjoy the story! <3

His future was very,  _ very _ pink.

Stiles had seen it on the show—obviously—but he hadn't realised exactly how pink the enclosure around the work space was until he emerged from the tunnel and walked through the open doors. 

The cameras and people at the opposite end of the space shook him from his amazement. He stretched his mouth into a wide, glossy grin, struck a pose that he knew made his ass look great, and prepared to introduce himself. 

"Representing interstellar beauty, I'm—"

_ "Stellah?! _ What the hell?!"

At the sound of Dominique's surprise, Stiles tried to hold back a snort and a roll of his eyes—and failed. He never considered that another contestant would come from Nikki's stable of hosts and performers, and he knew that was an oversight. Of all of the queens who worked for Nikki, he should have suspected Dominique would be chosen; she was talented and beautiful, and she didn't enjoy Stellah's antics backstage. Stiles didn't particularly enjoy how fussy Dominique could be, but he'd always been able to work around her attitude—usually by making sure they were in different dressing rooms or in different numbers, and that would be significantly more difficult to do when they were trapped in the same contest. 

Stiles looked at the cameras and shrugged as playfully as he could. 

"Well, that takes off some of the pressure," he said with a smirk. 

He held his revised pose for the ten seconds that was required of him; some of the camera crew moved closer and to the side, wielding complicated gear as they filmed him in his new surroundings. Then, he turned towards Dom and smiled at her and the two other drag queens at the table. 

As he walked, he tried to assess the three of them. Dominique was all fishy blonde ombré bombshell, her olive complexion gleaming and glittering, encased in a slinky gold gown. Her long lashes and dark eyes sparkled with shade; her dark red lips were perfection. She was flanked by two queens, one darker and one lighter than she was. The former queen was wearing leather and lace and she was, as Stellah would say, stoned and painted for the gods. Her hair was styled into streaked, coiffed spikes and feathers; Stiles was jealous of her wig game and her general level of fierceness. The latter queen was wearing at least three stacked wigs made of glossy red curls that cascaded over her shoulders and created a sort of fiery froth that fell over the frothy concoction of lacy and satin that she wore. She looked like a bedroom fantasy. 

"Hi," Stiles said as he approached the trio. "I'm Stellah Stardust." 

"I know," Dominique said. 

The dark-skinned warrior grinned and moved away from Dom to greet Stiles. "I'm Tulips O'Hara," she said, offering a hand tipped with stoned, red nails for shaking. "I've seen your videos. It's great to meet you in person." 

Trying to ignore the way his cheeks flushed at his internet celebrity (however small or niche) and her compliment, Stiles shook her hand. "I hear a bit of an accent in there. Texas?" 

"Damn straight, girl," Tulips replied. "I'm guessing you and Dom go way back?" 

"We work at the same club sometimes," Stiles said, nodding. 

The pale redhead approached them. "Hillary Osslutchik," she said in a thick, Russian accent. She smirked. "It is highest honour to meet you." 

"Right back atcha, lady," Stiles replied. "You look very comfortable. Ready for bed. Gorgeous, too, but I pretty much always prioritise comfort over appearance." 

"I am always ready for bed," Hillary said as she pushed her gauzy red curls over her shoulder and looked at him through her heavy-lidded eyes and thick eyelashes. 

Stiles heard someone moving closer to them. When he looked around, he saw a single camera operator by the mirrors. It threw him off, distracting him, even though he knew there were going to be people watching almost every move he made for as long as he was a contestant. 

"It takes a few minutes, but you'll get used to it," Tulips murmured. 

After a nod, Stiles looked at Dom. As much as he admired her glamourous, fishy style, Stiles didn't really know Dominique that well; he didn't know Dominic that well, either. She'd come to Nick's attention after a successful pageant run; she started hosting his monthly drag competitions, used to speaking in public and commandeering attention, and she'd only just started joining in on some of the stage numbers. But, by that point, Stiles had been busier with larger roles and he'd started working with other productions that travelled through the state. Any brief time they spent together compounded their conflicts in personality and never allowed them to work past those issues. 

"I didn't think you'd get picked," Dom said. 

Stiles let Dom's attitude roll off his back. "I didn't think you would apply to compete," he said. 

"Of course," she replied. "I thought someone should represent all the hard work Nikki does for her girls." 

If snide remarks were all Dom would offer him, Stiles knew he'd have to start meditating to try to keep his weird electric quirk at bay. 

"Nikki's pretty awesome," Stiles agreed, refusing to take the bait. He turned to Hillary and smiled. "So, are you really from Russia?" 

"I come a long way, but hardly that far," Hillary said, her accent even thicker. 

Tulips snorted. "She's from Boston," she said with a little laugh in her voice. 

"Hey, that's far from here," Stiles said. 

Hillary smiled at him as she pulled a stool up to the table and sat down on it. Following her lead (and trying to save his feet), Stiles joined her. Tulips followed, taking a seat on the other side of the table, and Dom followed her—but she chose to remain standing and apart from the conversation, except to deliver little digs any time Stiles talked about his work in San Francisco. 

As they waited for the next contestant, Stiles had a feeling it was going to be a very long day. 

#####

_ ("Tell us about yourself, Stellah," Marcia, the interviewer in charge of his time in front of the confessional camera, says. "What sort of drag queen are you? What sort of personality are you?") _

_ Stiles smoothes his hands over the shirt he was wearing—Derek's shirt—and he inhales slowly as he tries to put together his thoughts.  _

_ "My name is Stellah Stardust, and I'm thirty-two years old," he says. "I'm from San Francisco, and I'm… well, I try very hard not to fit into any one box.  _

_ "I like to experiment. I dabble in a lot of different styles of drag—so it's hard to pick one area, even as a favourite." _

_ ("And Stellah's personality? Your personality?")  _

_ "I… I'm a big nerd. I love comics and movies. I'm pretty independent—as me and as Stellah—but I'm also a family girl and if anyone comes for the people I care about, I will come for them right back. I'm fiercely protective. You don't wanna cross Stellah or the people in her heart."  _

_ (He almost groans as he realises he'd opened the door for Marcia; she is going to take advantage of that. He sees the sparkle in her eye and the curve of her lips. _

_ "And who is in your heart?") _

_ Stiles touches the fingers of his right hand to Derek's ring on his left ring finger. He pictures Derek in his mind and savours the warmth that builds in his chest.  _

_ "Like... my drag mom, Nikki Stardust, for starters," Stiles says, smiling. "She pretty much saved me at a very dark time in my life. And with Nikki came a big family—both inside and outside of drag. I love Nikki's partner, she's like the sister I never knew I wanted or needed.  _

_ "And my man. God. He takes up a big chunk of my ticker," Stiles continues, failing to keep his eyelids from fluttering a little at the thought of Derek. "He's supportive and caring and he just… lets me be me and has my back. I would do anything to protect or support him." _

_ (He pauses, thinks about the people in his life, and then decides to add a few more to his list. "Even though I don't live in my hometown anymore,  _ _ Coco _ _ and the girls at Jungle are still in my heart, too," he says. "They got me started—and, at the time, I had no idea how much drag would come to mean to me, but now I know and without them I'd be this boring little guy doing a boring job and I'd probably have lost my mind by now.  _

_ "My parents. They're both gone now, but they're never far from my thoughts. Mom would have loved this. Dad… oh my god, Dad would be throwing viewing parties for the town and selling Stellah merch," he says.  _

_ At the thought of his father, Stiles feels his eyes well up with tears. He sighs and looks away from Marcia and the camera.  _

_ "He was a supportive father?" Marcia asks.  _

_ Stiles nods. "He came to some of my first competitions at Jungle… he even let me drag him up once."  _

_ Marcia grins. "Really?"  _

_ "Yep. The town sheriff dressed up as Big Red, to my Little Red—who I was before growing into Stellah."  _

_ "That's very cool," she murmurs.  _

_ "He was the coolest dad, no contest," Stiles confirms. _

_ After a nod, Marcia looks down at her tablet. She marks something with her stylus and looks back up at Stiles.  _

_ "All right. How about we talk about your meeting the other girls?" Marcia suggests. "You know Dominique from San Francisco, right? What was that like when she stomped on your moment?") _

_ Stiles winces. "Okay, okay, for the record, yes, she pissed me off a little," he admits. "Dom didn't interrupt anyone else. And I've been getting some serious shady lady vibes from her.  _

_ "But, at the same time, after all the memorable entrances from the beginning to now? How on earth do you compete with that? So, I can admit I was a little relieved, too," he says. He pauses and snorts. "Just don't tell her she may have done me a favour. That'll really bug her." _

#####

After Stellah, there was Viva Capricious. She was tall and curvy and  _ solid _ in a way that Stiles would never be. Her nearly-black skin looked smooth and glossy, and it was stretched over muscles and curves that suggested to Stiles she was probably an athlete or dancer. Her long, slinky dress in pale pink might have been meant to make her look delicate—or it might have been meant to playfully contrast against how strong she appeared to be. No matter the reason, she seemed like she was Glamazonian by birth and Stiles was man enough to admit (to himself) that he was a little stunned by her. 

Claire Saint Clair seemed so tiny in comparison to Viva. Stiles could see Blair's influence in Claire's style; they were a perfect drag-mother-and-drag-daughter pair. She stepped into the room, singing from (what Stiles suspected was) Wicked, and then she flounced around for the cameras in her extra-wide-brimmed hat and knee-length dress. The rest of them clapped and cheered when she curtsied. 

As a seemingly purposeful solemn contrast, Stormy Moon came into the room and struck and held a pose for a few minutes. Her dark complexion and dark features struck Stiles as coming from Indigenous heritage—so her costume, trimmed in drag-tasteful leather fringe and beadwork, made a bit more sense. Though she appeared very serious when she entered the room, she turned to the growing group of contestants with a wide, blinding grin as soon as she was done posing. 

Dixie Harder and Fishy Caliente came after Stormy. Dixie was curvy in a way that couldn't be all pads; she seemed like she had real breasts, and Stiles assumed she was cinched twice to carve out her hourglass figure. She dressed like a lady from  _ Mad Men _ , prim and sexy at the same time, and her makeup was beautifully feminine. She knew how to paint her face. She seemed quiet and demure—the complete opposite of Fishy, who combined her very female look with the brightest and loudest neon colours to match her boisterous personality. 

When Sara Ashley Davenport stepped into the room, with her ballgown fluttering and her fan snapping, all Stiles could think was  _ pageant queen _ . Her dark skin seemed coated in a gold shimmer; gold stones sparkled on her nails and at the corners of her eyes. Her big, curly updo was styled perfectly. Nothing seemed out of place. Stiles wondered if she were talented in other areas, besides turning out a stunning look, and he wondered what Dom was thinking when he caught her staring at Sara with a dark expression on her face. 

Lazer Rachel was fierce and wild and she caught Stiles by surprise after Sara's elegant entrance. She shouted out a greeting and struck a dynamic pose before falling to the ground in a death drop. Her makeup was all reds, oranges, and yellows, matching her crayon-bright red and orange fauxhawk wig. Her tattoos were all on display. Her fashion style combined punk and Catholic schoolgirl styles. She looked like a lot of fun; Stiles wanted to know where she performed so he could go see her on stage. 

Once Rachel joined them around the table, Crema Splash stepped through the door. In a dress with an asymmetrical neckline and a long fishtail skirt, she topped her outfit with a low bun and a veiled hat. She giggled flirtatiously at the camera as she introduced herself and then she bounced over to the group. She hugged Dixie and Claire before getting lost in a series of introductions with the other girls. 

Rosetta Bone was the last contestant to enter the room. She was dressed in a long tutu-type skirt and a polka dot halter top; she had a fan in her hand and dark sunglasses on her face. When she lowered her sunglasses, she leveled shade at the group watching her—"They saved the best for last, I see"—before doing a twirl on her toes and sauntering over to them. 

They all seemed to be the same age, more or less, and everyone seemed very put together. Stiles couldn't discern who had more experience, just by looking at them, and he had a sinking feeling that the competition would be tough from the beginning. 

#####

_ "We're back, bitches!" Raven exclaims. "Welcome to a brand new episode of RuPaul's Drag Race Fashion Photo Review!"  _

_ Raja claps their hands together, showing off a fancy, bejeweled manicure that matches their sparkling glasses frames. "Fuck, I've missed doing this," they say. "And double fuck, I've missed you!"  _

_ "We need to hang out more," Raven agrees. "In my defense, though, you're super busy, photographing people for your next big project."  _

_ Nodding, Raja says, "Well, I think I'm back for a while now. Editing and processing and trying to piece together the series."  _

_ Raven adjusts her perch on her seat and smooths her hands over the bodice of her shimmering champagne-coloured dress. When she finishes, she looks over at Raja. "And I've been busy painting all sorts of beautiful faces," she says.  _

_ "I didn't see you at the royal court event. Did you get to join the creative team for the—"  _

_ "Oh, yeah, I missed that, but I'm back, now, too," Raven interrupts. "Got to meet all the contestants, do our queen mum's makeup, and had all sorts of fun. This group is fierce. I don't know how the judges are going to choose a winner."  _

_ "Shall we get right to it?"  _

_ "School the new class on fashion?" Raja asks. They smirk. "Absolutely. Let's do it."  _

_ Raven turns back to the camera. "So today, we're just going to look at everyone's entrance looks—" _

_ "Saving the runway looks for our next episode," Raja finishes.  _

_ "Of RuPaul's Drag Race Fashion Photo Review!" Raven adds.  _

_ Raja arches an eyebrow. Raven grins, a giggle under her breath.  _

_ "I just like saying it," she says with laughter and mischief in her voice. "It's been a while."  _

_ "Well, let's get to it," Raja says. "We're going in order of appearance."  _

_ A still photograph of Dominique du Poisson appears between and behind the pair of drag performers, but their attention is on an off-screen display in front of them.  _

_ "Oooh, Dominique du Poisson, from San Francisco," Raven purrs. "She looks good here, a strong first impression…"  _

_ "But, it's kind of pedestrian, isn't it?" Raja asks.  _

_ "What do you mean?"  _

_ "Well… I'd have liked to see a few more accessories," Raja explains. "Gold hoop earrings, maybe a fur coat… hell, I know, even that's tame, but just something to give her a bit more splash."  _

_ "That body isn't enough of a splash?" Raven asks.  _

_ "Sure, she looks amazingly fishy," Raja concedes. "And her legs do go  _ all _ the way to the floor. But, all I'm getting from her is a woman at a party. It's not extreme eleganza or anything to tell us who she is. It's just… pretty. It certainly doesn't tell me who she is."  _

_ Raven hums as she studies the picture. "Hmm. Good point."  _

_ "And maybe I'm holding a bit of a grudge for how she stomped on my Stellah's moment—" _

_ "I thought she's Nikki's Stellah," Raven interjects.  _

_ "I'm her cool aunt," Raja says. "And Stellah's too much of a sweetheart to clap back, but I'm not. No one in the herstory of Drag Race has ever stomped on another queen's moment like Dominique did."  _

_ "It's not a best friend race," Raven says.  _

_ Raja rolls their eyes. "I know, I know, but I'm protective of my drag niece… anywaaay, toot it or boot it?" _

_ Raven brings a manicured nail up to her lips as she looks at the picture. "Her hair looks great, her contouring is smooth," she says. "Plus, I like the way the dress hugs her hips. I'll give her a toot."  _

_ "And I'm giving her a boot—for her attitude… mostly."  _

_ Raven nods.  _

_ The imagery changes to the entrance picture of Hillary Osslutchik, in a quirky but still sexy pose. Raja smiles as they look at whatever display is in front of them.  _

_ "Now, this is… Hillary Osslutchik, right?" Raja asks.  _

_ "Russian spy slash sex kitten," Raven says with a nod. "She's from Boston. She reminds me a little of Katya, with the accent and sense of humour."  _

_ "Yes! She does!" Raja agrees.  _

_ "And she's definitely working the sex kitten angle," Raven continues. "And you know she's doing the thing with her hose, so I'm tooting this just for that attention to detail." _

_ "The thing with her hose?" _

_ "She cut it so you can see toes under her fishnets," Raven says, pointing down at whatever they use to see the look that was composited in behind them, "instead of a sock monster in those sexy strappy heels."  _

_ Raja's eyes widen as they nod. "Ohh, yeah… that's smart," they agree. "Helps the illusion."  _

_ "Plus, she looks like an actual sex kitten—" _

_ "The whole look works, and even though she's funny or playing a character, it only adds to her fashion choice," Raja says. "It's a toot for me."  _

_ "Me, too," Raven confirms.  _

_ "Next up, Tulips O'Hara," Raja says, as the image behind them changes again. "I like her. I'm getting family vibes from her—"  _

_ "She's in a drag family with Asia O'Hara, isn't she?" Raven interjects.  _

_ Raja nods. "She is. And she's a good representative of their style and charm," they say. "Look at that leather skirt, and the curves underneath it. Stoned stockings, cute boots—" _

_ "Her makeup… I'm not usually wild about oversized or cartoon-y eyes, but the colours are striking on her skin and the shapes are sharp and bold… I am giving Tulips a big toot." _

_ After Raven's proclamation, Raja nods again and says, "Yeah, me, too. She looks fierce. I look forward to seeing her compete—can't wait to see what looks she turns out."  _

_ The next time the image behind them changes, Raja grins and claps their hands together. Raven laughs and leans in to nudge Raja with her shoulder.  _

_ "Well, we know who this is, don't we, Raja?" Raven teases.  _

_ "Stellah Stardust!" Raja exclaims. "I am so glad she made it into this competition! I've been a fan of hers since Nikki introduced us. Smart kid—" _

_ "She's hardly a kid—" _

_ Raja rolls their eyes. "Almost everyone's a kid to me. Fuck, I hate getting old."  _

_ Raven laughs. "I know, darling," she says. "Makes me sick. Just wanna suck the life out of them."  _

_ "Right?" Raja agrees. They gesture towards the hidden display. "And Stellah just always looks so young!"  _

_ "She does," Raven says, nodding. "Now, what do you think about her ensemble?" _

_ Raja heaves as they take in a deep breath. "Well. I do think she has better looks in her closet, but I get it," they say. "It pays homage—" _

_ "Homaaaahhge," Raven interjects. _

_ "—to her Stardust family, she's stoned all over the place, and it looks like stars in the night sky," Raja continues. "I really like the boots—equestrian but with skinny and taaaall heels. And the vest has some nice details. That fake skirt adds to her hips." _

_ "But?" Raven asks. _

_ "She's got great legs," Raja says. "Why did she hide them in pants?" _

_ "Would daisy dukes have been better?"  _

_ Raja snorts. "No… not for this episode. I mean, she's got a weird witch thing going on—and I love that she isn't afraid to go dark; you're in for a show with her, trust me—and she made the outfit work," they say. "I just wish she'd gone full-on Stardust." _

_ Raven hums as she studies the picture in front of her. "It is smart, though," she comments. "I mean, looking back, there was always some sort of weird challenge—" _

_ "Oh, like the water tank or the neon toxic spray or the trampoline," Raja interrupts. _

_ Nodding, Raven says, "Exactly. And not knowing what it would be, she's ready. No wardrobe issues because of water or jumping or straddling a canon."  _

_ After adjusting their glasses, Raja nods. "That's true, she was ready for anything. I'll forgive the pants because of her attention to detail. Well, I'll forgive them anyway because I love this kid. But. Details were on point."  _

_ "The stoning and her lashes?" Raven asks.  _

_ "And her nails," Raja replies. "I don't know if you saw them, ever, but if they're painted, they are stamped or stoned in a cool design."  _

_ "What was on her nails that day?" _

_ Raja says, "Silver stars and a moon, on black." _

_ "Huh. I missed that, but nice touch! Especially for that first photo challenge," Raven says. She nods. "I'll toot her."  _

_ "Damn straight you will," Raja responds. "And in the next few weeks, you better get ready to 'shoot' her, because she's gonna wow you." _

_ Raven grins. "I look forward to it. My 'shoot' is ready and waiting." _

##### 

After the camera crew finished shooting footage of the contestants talking, huddled around one of the tables, one of the guys behind the cameras announced they could take five minutes. Some of the drag queens groaned and relaxed in their seats, while others went to the mirrors to check their makeup and hair; Stiles watched them all for a few minutes and then he scanned the room. 

Being an emissary taught him to be aware of his surroundings—when he could focus—and, as he tried to apply that skill to his present situation, he wasn't sure what he was seeing. Stage production was familiar to him; television production was not even a little familiar to him. The heat made sense because of the lights. The lights made sense because they couldn't film what they couldn't see. The cables made sense because electricity was pretty important to filming. The people made sense because they were needed to operate the equipment. But, he couldn't quite wrap his head around the whole picture or what he was doing in the middle of it. 

He still made himself look around and wander through the room. He found a few security-type cameras and microphones; he found one corner where there were no visible recording devices. When the production assistants started bringing in their luggage (with the help of some of the security guards, because Stiles spotted Clay doing his best to make it look like lugging three drag-packed suitcases was hard), Stiles continued watching them all. Ashleigh wasn't there, but he could see the Jay-name guys; there were others who exchanged greetings with some of the queens, as if they'd met the same way Stiles had met Ashleigh. 

Whatever sized spark was inside of him flared for a brief second, feeling like effervescence in his chest, when Clay made eye contact and flashed his blue eyes so quickly that Stiles probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't spent so long with werewolves. 

He was so glad Clay was there. They weren't  _ pack _ , in the strictest sense of the word, but he was Nick's brother, so he was like Stiles' extended pack. He wasn't alone. He had someone there. 

Moving from that reminder and back to his environment, Stiles watched as one of the production assistants gave one of the contestants a few talking points—something to hopefully get Hillary talking about her last relationship (and the way it was worded made Stiles' gut clench in dread, so he hoped Hillary didn't hear them talking)—while another talked to Dom as she was being filmed touching up her makeup. 

She was probably being filmed from the other side of the glass, too, even if they couldn't see the cameras. 

Stiles reached out and touched the red lacquered table. There was a vibration to it that reminded him of touching anything electronic when he was agitated to the point of stirring up his metaphysical energy. Because he was still  _ Stiles _ under Stellah's facade, he folded at the waist on the pretense of adjusting the laces on his boots; because he was stupid flexible thanks to Nick's insistence that he take yoga and some of expensive stretching classes, he could practically hug his boot-covered calves and peek up at the underside of the table. 

Two microphones were hidden there, explaining the tingles he'd felt. 

"Look at you, skinny bitch. I can't even see my toes." 

Stiles used his hands to press his torso away from his legs as he straightened. He turned and looked at Dixie, a smile curving his lips. "Maybe not, but the way you paint your face is amazing. I can never get my contouring to look like yours," he said. He gestured towards her dress. "And you are  _ all _ woman right now. I mean that in the most respectful way." 

Dixie snorted. "Thank you," she said. "Are you—" 

"Ladies!" 

As Dixie stopped, mid-question, everyone else around them also fell silent. One of the crew was standing on a stepladder, presumably so everyone could see and hear him as he was a little shorter than most of the queens in their high-heeled shoes. The guy—Stiles wasn't sure, but he thought his name was Duncan—clapped his hands twice before he whistled sharply. 

"Your stuff is being brought in as you can see. If you look around, you'll see we've picked where your stations will be—not at the counter, just around the room, for your kits and costumes," he said in a loud voice. "RuPaul and Todrick are coming in here in a few minutes. There will be a mail call on the monitors to let you know when, just like usual. Then, I want you to be gathered—" he broke off as he turned and pointed to the space in front of the stairs "—there, looking excited and eager, before they come in. Pleasant, interested faces, please, though that shouldn't be too hard to fake, should it?" 

They shook their heads and responded with the appropriate words. 

"They'll talk about this eventually, but there won't be time for details so we're doing this first today," the maybe-Duncan continued. "Every episode will have some sort of photo or video shoot—in addition to runway and performance challenges. Instead of these only being mini-challenges, the results will contribute to your results on stage. After Ru and Todrick explain today's challenge on tape, you'll be called one at a time to the shoot. The rest of you will be in here. You will be unpacking your stations and talking. A member of the crew might ask you a question; you might be asked to ask one of the other contestants a question, to get the conversation rolling. We'll guide you through all of that as it happens. Try not to stare directly at the cameras." 

Everyone replied by nodding. 

"We're bringing back the Shade Tree this year," maybe-Duncan added. "You'll see it on your way to the stage set for the photo shoot. We'll have two next to each other. They're soundproof—but there is a camera inside each one and they're wired for internal sound." 

Stiles had no intention of confessing his secrets in one of those booths. Still, the idea of having a place to breathe away from prying eyes—actual eyes, not just a camera lens—was a small comfort. If he needed to stretch and relax to try to tame the energy inside of him, he hoped he could hide in there so he didn't risk zapping anyone around him. 

"Everyone needs to put three minutes  _ minimum _ in the booth,  _ every day," _ he stipulated. "Some of that is going on Instagram and Facebook between episodes." 

Stiles nodded, expecting something like that would occur with additional footage. The production companies and networks involved owned the footage that wasn't used in the actual episodes; he assumed they'd be maximising it to their advantage (or to their profit). A couple contestants grimaced, as if they hadn't considered what would happen with the extra video. Stiles wondered if it were Nick's edge for business—something Nick said he learned the hard way, and not at Antonio's side—that had prepared him more for this than any stage or hosting performance, and he wondered if it were possible that the other contestants' mentors possessed the same level of business acumen as Nick did. 

He spent a lot of that time wondering, silently, while other contestants started whispering amongst themselves. He wasn't sure what he'd do or say in the booth for three minutes, at least, every single day. Because of his past, pack was the only group of people who were really permitted past his defenses—and even then, it was really only Nick, Cora, and Derek who had access to  _ all _ of him. 

"Hey," Dixie murmured as she nudged him. "Stop frowning." 

"Not sure what else I should do. I've been told my fake grin is pretty terrifying," Stiles replied. 

At Dixie's laugh, he cracked a small, genuine smile. He looked around the room. People were directing the contestants to their areas, and they were opening their luggage. Stiles scanned the empty areas until he found his suitcases; he seemed to be on the other side of the room, opposite Dominique, and Lazer Rachel was in the nook with him, on its other side. 

"I'm gonna…" 

"Yeah, me, too," Dixie said. "Gotta figure out what needs to be steamed and ironed."

"Ugh. I'm trying not to think about that," Stiles muttered, earning another small laugh from Dixie. 

Some of the contestants seemed to already know each other—particularly those from New York and Los Angeles. Briefly, Stiles regretted that he didn't travel more. He recognised some of them from Instagram, but he didn't have the easy rapport with them that the small cliques had amongst themselves. His heart ached as he thought about Layla and the other queens he befriended in his work; his heart throbbed as he thought about the pack gathered in the safety and comfort of Nick's den. 

As he wandered across the room, Tulips sidled up to him. 

"You good?" she asked. Stiles blinked at her. She smiled and added, "You look how I feel."

"How's that?"

She snorted. "Trying to think and plan through the confusion," she replied. 

Stiles smiled at her. It would be easier to agree than to try to explain his own feelings, so he nodded. 

"C'mon," she urged as she threaded her arm through and around his. "Let's go find our stuff." 

Even though he knew where his was located, he walked with her until they found her bags in the nook next to Dominique's space. He left her with a squeeze to her hand and moseyed to his space between Lazer Rachel and Dixie Harder. They greeted him with smiles and quiet, friendly words, before turning back to their own work and leaving Stiles to decide where to start with his own unpacking. 

###

After filming their reaction to the royal-oriented video message and their first meeting with RuPaul and Todrick, the contestants scattered back to their stations to tend to outfits, wigs, and accessories, while Stormy Moon was called out of the room to be the first queen invited into the photography set. 

Stiles lost himself in brushing out some of his wigs and straightening his shoes; he liked sorting his accessories by colour and height (or length) because it made it easier to see and choose what he wanted to use when getting dressed in costume. Focusing on tasks in front of him allowed him to ignore the chatter and drama (like how Dom and Fishy had similar dresses—and  _ oh-no-she-bettah-don't  _ wear hers when Fishy wears hers, which pleased Dom  _ oh-so-effing-much, _ judging by the cursing happening in their area of the work space) so he could try to keep himself calm. His nervousness was fluttering in his gut and listening to or participating petty squabbles would not help. 

When one of the black-shirted crew told him it was Stellah's turn on the stage, Stiles had five minutes to touch up his makeup and check his wig before he was being ushered out of the work room. He barely had time to take a couple deep breaths; as soon as he passed Sara Ashley on her way off and made it onto the stage himself, he saw  _ so many _ of the queens from previous seasons and he forgot how to breathe. 

Raja and Manila burst into laughter and cheers as soon as they saw Stellah. Bianca made a comment about his wide-open mouth catching more than flies. Crystal and Jackie laughed; Valentina rolled her eyes. Some of the others grinned as they waved. 

Everyone was wearing beautiful costumes. They looked like pseudo-period party royalty as they sat on benches in small groups. When he gazed around the set and actually saw everything, he realised the theme of the photoshoot was some sort of royal court—complete with Queen Mother Ru and her ward, Principessa Tod, sitting in extravagant thrones, as he learned after RuPaul did her spiel for the cameras and introduced their photographer, Janel. 

"So… um, wow," Stiles said. 

Jinkx cackled. "It must be the end times. I don't think I've ever seen you speechless," she commented. 

Raja laughed, the sound deep, comforting, and so familiar that Stiles fully expected Nick to be at their side like he often was when Stiles heard Raja laugh like that. 

Stiles gave himself a mental shake and turned to Janel. "So… I just… pick a pose?" he asked. 

She nodded. "You're coming to join the court," she replied. "Tell a story. I'll give you direction if necessary." 

Looking around at everyone, Stiles considered his options. Part of him just wanted to try to fit in, but he wanted a good shot and he wanted to have fun. He considered how everyone was sitting and what he knew his body could handle in terms of balance and posing. 

"And if I want to either steal Todrick's tiara or fall down at their feet and beg for… anything?" 

Janel grinned. "Let's do the begging first." 

"Mmm, yes, kneel before me and beg, child," RuPaul teased. 

Todrick snickered and asked, "What is she begging for?" 

RuPaul hummed wordlessly, a smirk curving her painted lips. 

The first pose went smoothly. Stiles stretched out on the floor, crawling as sensually as he could towards RuPaul and Todrick. He overplayed it; he knew that without hearing their smothered chuckles or seeing their laughing eyes. Janel encouraged him, grinning behind her camera as she advised him to extend one leg out behind him as he reached for the hems of RuPaul's dress and Todrick's cape. 

"Now, wrap your hand around Todrick's ankle," Janel instructed. 

"Permission to make very respectful, non-groping contact?" Stiles asked Todrick. 

Todrick smiled and nodded. 

#####

_ "Stellah is cute and I think she's got some sass in there somewhere," Todrick says as he shifts in his seat. He folds his hands together in front of him, the action just barely captured by the camera. "I hope she decides to show us that sooner rather than later.  _

_ "What I  _ really _ like, though, is how she asked permission to touch," he continues. "Some of the others didn't even think about it—just hugged on me or sat down in my lap—but Stellah asked first. Like I said, she's cute, and I would've been game to play along, of course, but she didn't know that and she asked. Really says a lot about the kind of person she is." _

#####

When Stiles finished begging, he struck a few poses around the thrones. He kept his facial and body language campy and light, playing up fake innocence as he acted out trying to steal Todrick's tiara and RuPaul's crown. Janel gave him a few pointers, but she didn't really take charge until it was time for a more specific photograph. 

"The court has petitioned their monarch to take you out for a test drive," RuPaul announced. "Ladies Raja and Manila have offered to vouch for you." 

"To commemorate the occasion," Todrick added, "You're going to take a portrait with them." 

Stiles blinked, trying to figure out what Todrick meant. "Aaaand, what's the catch?" he asked. 

Janel snorted. "No catch. You just gotta listen to me," she said. She pointed to a sparkly backdrop off to the side. "Ladies, over here." 

Before Stiles could obey, Raja wrapped him up in a hug. 

"Ohmifuckingod, I am so proud of you," they murmured in his ear. "You look great, and I can't wait to see your runway challenge. You had better kick everybody's asses." 

"But, hey, no pressure," Stiles said. 

Raja squeezed him before releasing him. "You are beautiful," they said. "And smart. You are going to bring it." 

They were the best drag… aunt, for a lack of a better word, ever. Stiles felt grounded and sure as Raja's serious tone of voice sinks into his mind. He nodded and smiled a little. 

"Well, I want to kiss you, but I don't want to mess up your face and your Derek probably won't like that," Manila said as she pulled Stiles into another hug. "Finally scored Mister Possessive-and-Growly, huh?" 

"Oh yeah," Stiles agreed on a laugh, hugging her back. "He makes it work for him. Helps that he's a big teddy bear under the surly appearance." 

"Lucky girl," she teased. 

Once they were in front of the backdrop, Raja pulled Stiles in close to them and Manila moved in until she was pressed against Stiles' back. They cradled him close—so close that the scent of spice, citrus, and thick makeup filled the small pocket of air that Stiles inhabited—and he knew they were giving some sort of seductive expressions to Janel because that was the face she told Stiles to don. 

"Ace spec means I do not have this expression on lock, but here goes," Stiles muttered before giving it a try. 

Manila laughed and said, "You do—I've seen you perform." 

"Just think of your man," Raja advised as they nuzzled into the side of Stiles' face. "He's sitting on the couch when you come home, wearing that grey shirt… bare feet up on the coffee table, book in his lap. And he smiles at you…"

Stiles bit back a groan at the idea. He couldn't wait until he and Derek were in the same city, full time; he knew it might take a while before they lived together, but he also knew they'd get to that point. He was seriously in love; Derek was seriously in love. They would make it work. They would get their happy ending. 

"Perfect," Janel said, snapping pictures of them. "Now, give me a funny face. Crossed eyes, big kisses, whatever you want. One, two…" 

Stiles knew their goofy faces well enough to mimic them so he could fit in as one of a trio. He must have hit the mark because Janel laughed and took her tablet over to RuPaul and Todrick, who had moved down off of their thrones to observe the more intimate shoot. 

"What do you think?" Janel asked. She pushed her red hair out of her eyes as she waited for the final decision. 

RuPaul nodded. "We've got it," she said. "Go back to the work room, Stellah. You better get ready to bring it—because I have high hopes for you." 

With flushed cheeks, Stiles nodded. He stole one more hug from both Raja and Manila before following one of the production assistants back to the pink stage. 

The next contestant called to the stage was Tulips. Stiles offered her a quick grin and wish of luck as they passed each other; his smile lasted until he walked through the hot pink door and saw Dom standing in his area. She took one look at Stiles, smirked, and sauntered back to her section of the room. 

Stiles sighed. 

"You can de-drag and finish settling in," the production assistant told him. 

After a nod, he thanked them and headed to his space. He didn't think Dom would mess with his stuff, but he fully intended to check everything over to be sure. 

#####

_ ("So, you and Raja and Manila seem close," Marcia says once Stiles settles down in his chair.) _

_ He smiles. "They're good friends with my drag mom… which I guess makes them my drag aunts," he admits. "I learned a lot from them. And I was a huge fan of theirs when they were on the show."  _

_ (She smiles back at him. "And you know some of the others, too, right?") _

_ "It's a small world, even if there are a lot of drag performers," he replies after a shrug. "I've worked for Jinks and with Blair before. And… with some of the others, too."  _

_ ("How did you feel about seeing them all?") _

_ Stiles gives her and the camera another smile. "It was… nerve wracking. And comforting. All at the same time, y'know?"  _

#####

As soon as he assured himself that nothing was missing or damaged, Stiles followed Stormy's lead and started undressing. He ignored the curious eyes flirting in his direction; he understood because he was curious how everyone (apart from Dom) looked under their paint and padding, too. He didn't care if they thought he was trade or completely busted. He was comfortable in his skin and bones and he embraced what he looked like—in and out of drag. 

The camera operator following him around would take a little time to become normal—or something he could pretend to ignore, at least. He couldn't forget he had a microphone on him, because the battery pack was a heated presence against his lower back; he couldn't forget he was being filmed, because there was a six-foot tree of a man with a huge camera dogging his every move. Feeling a faint buzz of energy along his nerves, Stiles closed his eyes and focused on wriggling out of his padding and hosiery. 

When he ducked behind a little privacy screen to untuck (and swap his panties for a more comfortable pair of… well, they weren't boxer briefs, and they probably fell somewhere around "hot pants," but they were comfortable and pretty so he didn't care what they were), he let out a groan as he freed himself. Pulling the tape off hadn't felt great, but letting his bits go where they were supposed to go felt  _ amazing. _ He leaned against the wall and took in a few deep breaths, savouring his physical freedom, before he slipped into his shorts. 

"You havin' a private moment back there?" Dixie teased. 

Stiles called back, "Fuck, it feels good to hang free!" 

She laughed. "Well, don't feel too good. We haven't gotten a real, long look at you yet—"

"He could feel plenty good out here," Rachel interjected. "We wouldn't mind watching." 

Dom snorted. "I would mind," she said. 

"Majority rules, bitch," Rachel shot back at her. 

Before Dom and Rachel could start fighting, Stiles emerged from behind the screen. He felt eyes on his bare body, but he did his best to ignore them. If they thought he was good-looking, he had no interest beyond mild appreciation; if they thought he was hideous, he would be hurt, initially, but he didn't really care. He had his pack and family waiting for him and he had Derek in his heart. 

#####

_ "Okay. I know I'm not supposed to say this—oh, who cares," Crema says with a roll of his eyes. "Stellah is… yeah, I'm going to have some trouble there. That boy is cuuuute. Just wanna bend him over and… unngh!" _

_ ("You know he's in a relationship," Marcia says.)  _

_ "Yes, yes, he has a man at home," Crema continues. "But we're here for six weeks, and we all have needs."  _

###

_ Dominique rolls her eyes. "Ugh, yeah, I know, they all want to tap that ass," she says. "I don't see it, but whatever." _

###

_ ("So, some of the queens have expressed interest in Stellah, and some have expressed disinterest—" _

_ Rachel laughs and runs a hand over her shaved head. "Dom, right?" she asks.  _

_ With a small smile and a shrug, Marcia continues talking. "Where do you fall on that spectrum?" she asks.) _

_ "He's verrrry cute. Scrumptious. Those hands. That ass. Mmm, yes. And I get a good vibe from him as a person. If we were in a different situation, yeah… he could get it," she says. ("But, he's got a man and he strikes me as the intensely loyal, devoted type. I don't screw with people like that—even hypothetically.")  _

#####

In Derek's shirt, and with his ring still on his necklace like a talisman, Stiles felt better. He sat on one of the couches with Dixie and Rachel, enjoying getting to know them a bit better despite two cameras being focused on them. He knew it wasn't a show about making friends; but, getting to know some of the contestants would make the long days and any team challenges easier for everyone. If he could make a few allies, it would help muffle the ache in his heart. If he could make a few friends, he'd have a prize he could take home with him after he's out of the competition. 

He was pretty sure Rachel was… something. He would have said he's a werewolf, but some of his actions and expressions were almost feline, so Stiles wasn't sure. In the beginning, he hadn't noticed; the more time they spent together, he started feeling that supernatural vibe from him. 

Dixie was completely human—as far as he could tell. 

They were both smart and funny, though, and he liked that about them. Within minutes of sitting together, they were joking and laughing like they'd always been friendly with each other. The nervous fluttering in Stiles' stomach faded in their presence. 

After Dixie left to go help Hilary use the room's clothing steamer, taking the cameras with him, Rachel confirmed Stiles' suspicions. 

"You're not wearing that because you're a hunter, right?" he asked, her voice a whisper. "I mean, you smell more like one of us than one of  _ them… _ but, I can still smell aconite." 

When Stiles met his hazel eyes, he nodded his head down towards Stiles' chest. He brought a hand up to cover the necklace. 

"Oh, god, no,  _ never _ ," he said. He looked around the room as he slid his hand from his heart to his collar, where his microphone was clipped. With that smothered, he whispered, "My pack wanted me to have protection. And there's someone on the crew who's been sniffing around—" 

"I saw him. Blond. The muscles?" Rachel asked. 

He shook his head. "He's the good one—I'd trust him with my life if it came down to it. It's the girl. Ashleigh? She keeps… I think she's a recent bite. She… gives me the heebie-jeebies. Y'know, the dilemma between doing the right thing and using all that power." 

Rachel snorted. "I wouldn't know." 

"Born, right?" Stiles asked. 

He nodded, eyeing Stiles with a speculative stare. "You feel… like an ally. Not sure why." 

"I've been happily in a pack for years now, maybe that's it," Stiles said, not wanting to bring up his weird affinity for moving mountain ash or for sparking up when he's agitated. 

"Your guy. He's…" 

"Yeah. Occasionally more hirsute," Stiles said. He chose his words carefully, even though they were both covering their microphones. "He's… the sort-of-but-way-more equivalent of  _ the one, _ y'know?" 

Rachel's eyes softened. "And he let you come? You're not marked yet, as far as I can—" 

After a sigh, Stiles admitted, "It's complicated. He's been trying to get out of his current living situation so he can join ours, and there's some shitty politics involved." 

He could tell Rachel understood; his shoulders slumped and a soft whine escaped his throat. "Fuck, that sucks," Rachel muttered. 

Stiles shrugged. "They're working on it while I'm out of the way. I trust my alpha," he said. "Plus, Der and I are planning a very long post-show staycation celebration when I get back." 

At that, Rachel grinned. Stiles laughed when Rachel bounced his eyebrows. 

"Congratulations," Rachel said, his face more serious. "That's… it's a big deal." 

Nodding, Stiles said, "Thanks. I'm very lucky. He's… everything. Y'know?"

Rachel nodded, too. "Yeah." 

Stiles leaned forward. "So. Where are you based… you said Nashville, right?" 

"For now," Rachel said. "My family… it's complicated, too. My dad was my alpha. Outside Saint Louis. We had a difference of opinion, so I'm with a pack now in Nashville, but… I don't… it doesn't feel like home, y'know?" 

Stiles nodded and asked, "Necessity, right? Between balance and protection?" 

"God, yeah, you get it," Rachel groaned, leaning in towards Stiles, too. "I've been in contact with alphas in California. Plenty of places to work here. Los Angeles has one that seems promising, and the true alpha from Beacon Hills actually called first—" 

Stiles frowned. Scott was reaching out and actively recruiting? What was he planning? 

_ God, _ he needed to remember to text that to Nick and Derek later. 

"You smell sour," Rachel said. 

Knowing 'sour' could mean anything from upset to angry, Stiles chose to nod instead of explaining his reaction to that piece of news. Scent was faster and more honest than words. 

"I… I should give you my alpha's contact info before this is over," Stiles said after a pause to think and temper his emotions. "I can't get into all my history with that place, but please consider San Francisco instead of Beacon Hills. I will vouch for you, too, if you need it, but I can't imagine you will." 

"Your alpha doesn't mind you performing?" Rachel asked. 

Stiles grinned at the thought of Nick—and Nikki. "My alpha does drag, too," he said. 

He would have loved to tell Rachel about Nick and Nikki, but he guarded his alpha and the pack as a secret to outsiders, so that would all have to wait until he received the go-ahead from Nick to speak freely with Rachel. Instead of saying more, he laughed at Rachel's stunned expression. He knew it was rare, but Nick had always said sex and gender roles were bullshit and nothing would ever stop him from being true to himself. It was part of what made him such a good alpha. 

"I… if it's a good fit, I'd really consider it," Rachel said after a few minutes of silently gaping. 

"I think it could be good," Stiles admitted. "Look… he's never lied to me, and I've never seen him sacrifice one for the good of the pack. But. The alpha here is good people, too, I think. She had someone meet me at the airport just to make sure I got here safely." 

Rachel nodded. "Me, too," he said. He tilted his head back and forth a couple of times. "My alpha's okay. He just… doesn't get drag." 

"We will find you a good fit, as soon as this circus is over," Stiles promised. "For now, you and me—and Clay, too. Just gotta stick together and get through the next six weeks." 

"What about…" 

Stiles grimaced. "If she stops sniffing me and apologises for acting like a bad creeperwolf, then maybe," he stipulated. 

#####

_ ("You know you're not supposed to cover your microphones, right?"  _

_ Stiles looks at Marcia and frowns. "I know… and I am sorry about that," he says. "It was… it was just… we were overwhelmed." _

_ Marcia nods and makes a note in her tablet. "What were you guys talking about?" she asks.)  _

_ "We have… some family traditions in common," Stiles says, choosing his words carefully. "Rachel… we get each other, as much as we can in the first few days. I know it's not the best friend race, but when you're without your support… you either struggle or make new connections. Rachel is good people."  _

_ ("No more covering your mic, okay?" Marcia insists.  _

_ Stiles nods.)  _

#####

It felt ridiculous to leave the room and then re-enter it, pretending that it's morning, but Stiles was beginning to realise that there was a lot going on behind the scenes of the show that even the most savvy fan couldn't deduce or determine. So, he played along, crowing out a morning greeting to the room as Dixie, Tulips, and Rachel flanked him. 

The group gathered around a table. Almost everyone took advantage of the coffee cart while waiting for the crew to check their cameras and lights, so there were a lot of cups in well-manicured hands. Talking about their sessions with the queens and photographer, everyone seems intent on rehashing their day's brightest moments to date. But, as Stiles looked around at the other contestants, he could see a couple contestants didn't seem too certain about their performances. 

He waited until Dom was distracted, arguing with Fishy again, and then he stepped around Dixie so he could cup Stormy's elbow in a gentle hold. 

"Everything okay?" he asked. 

Stormy's smile was small and tight. Without a wig, his hair was long on top and shaved down on the sides, like Stiles' but much,  _ much _ nicer, and he ruffled a hand through the longer strands. 

"Just worried," he admitted. "I didn't have a great idea, and I was so nervous with Jinkx and Trinity—"

When Stormy stopped talking, Stiles squeezed his hand around her arm. "Hey, hey, don't think like that," he murmured. "All it takes is one second for the photographer to catch something good. And you looked amazing. So strong and fierce, y'know?" 

Stormy opened his mouth (probably to counter Stiles' compliment); but before he could say anything, the alarm sounded. Everyone gasped and cheered as the television monitor lit up with the introductory animation. 

_ "Who goes to tea in the morning, to court in the afternoon, and to battle in the evening, but slays at every event? If you don't, you might just find yourself on the wrong side of the chopping block! Off with your head!"  _

Stormy glanced at Stiles, one brow raised in silent question. Stiles suspected there was a multiple runway event; he didn't want to say anything until he was sure, though, because he didn't want to add to the stress any of the contestants might be feeling. His heart fluttered as he considered the possibilities; he was unwilling to pile his worries on to anyone else. 

"Hello, hello, hello!" 

From behind the group, RuPaul and Todrick came into the room. Everyone turned, as if on cue, and they all cheered and clapped. They didn't need to be told how to act in those moments; they'd all seen the show enough to know that their attention should be on the showrunners' presence. 

As he walked in his high heeled boots, Todrick adjusted his bow tie and smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt. "Good morning, ladies," he said, smiling at them. "Everyone recovered from yesterday's madness?" 

Stiles nodded along with everyone else. There was something brittle in Todrick's expression and it bothered Stiles—not because he was worried about the other man, but because it compounded upon how weird and fake some of the day had been. He tried to ignore it and focus on his job; unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried to find some zen, he could still feel mild irritation buzzing along his nerves. 

A hand landed on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Rachel standing beside him. He wasn't pack—he could be, someday—but he did seem to understand enough to know Stiles needed comfort. 

"Before we get into this week's runway challenge, we want to show you the results of your photoshoots," RuPaul said, clasping his hands in front of his bright orange waistcoat. 

Todrick shifted his weight and (slightly) popped his left hip. "And announce the winner," he added. 

"These photos will be posted to our social media accounts, hashtag drag race royalty, and the winning portrait will be projected here until the next photo challenge," RuPaul said. He flourished one hand towards the large, framed monitor on the (fake) wall. "First up, Dixie Harder!" 

Dixie's first picture showed her standing flush with RuPaul's throne, an arm outstretched along its back. She looked curvy and lithe through the lines of her body and the reach in her pose. In her second photograph, she and Delta Work were leaning against the glitter backdrop—which must have been more secure than Stiles assumed, to support any weight at all—and Carmen Carrera was lounging on the floor and against their legs. They looked beautiful, looking at the camera through lowered lashes. 

Stiles smiled and clapped his hands together. 

Rachel's first picture sent Stiles into little giggles he tried to smother behind a hand. Janel captured her standing below the raised thrones, flipping her middle fingers towards RuPaul and Todrick and snarling with her whole face. She was irreverent and rebellious, strong and stunning. That mood continued into her portrait, where she was making an expression as if she were a member of Kiss, between Adore and Acid Betty who were licking the sides of her face. 

"I could smell them until I washed my face," Rachel muttered in a barely-audible voice, making Stiles laugh more. 

When the picture switched to one of his, Stiles' laugh died in his throat. He was stretched out in a kneeling, crawling sort of pose; one hand was hovering over RuPaul's lap, and the other hand was curled around Todrick's calf. His eyes were wide and he was licking his lips. Everyone in the room catcalled. In a subtle way, Rachel brushed his shoulder against Stiles' shoulder. 

His portrait with Raja and Manila earned a couple sounds of admiration from some of the other contestants. The three of them were smoldering at Janel's camera; Stiles looked as if he were being cradled between his drag aunties. They seemed serene, which was not a word anyone would use to describe any of them—except maybe Raja, some of the time. 

"Nice," Stormy murmured. 

Stiles leaned into him for a moment. 

After Stiles' pictures, they got to see Viva's work. She held a sword and swore her allegiance to the royals; she snuggled up to Monét X Change and Shea Coulée and made a striking trio. Rosetta Bone sat on the ground, her back to the throne, with Todrick's tiara on her head; she laughed with Bianca Del Rio and Trixie Mattel. Hilary was handcuffed and awaiting sentencing; Katya cradled her close in a very intimately-framed portrait. Tulips posed very elegantly despite the weird cartoon-esque flower pot prop balanced on her head; with Asia and Kameron, she looked fierce. 

Everyone cheered and supported each other. Stiles couldn't stop himself from wondering how much of it was an act and how much of it was genuine. He hoped most of it was real. 

And then, his own sincerity was put to the test when Dominique's first picture appeared on the monitor. More aware of the cameras than he already was, Stiles smiled and nodded as he looked at her, draped elegantly across Todrick's lap and then posed in those weird and alien editorial fashion poses with Mariah and Naomi. She was beautiful; she seemed to have perfect control of her body and awareness of light and angles. Stiles was a little jealous—and a little annoyed—she was so talented. 

He wanted to make Nick proud. He wanted to prove to his alpha that he was worthy of the love and effort he'd received over the years. Stiles was irrationally afraid Dominique would beat him and show Nikki how untalented he really was. 

Dominique's second picture was replaced with Crema's elegant and exaggerated pose to the side of RuPaul's throne as she mimed stealing her crown. She, Bendelacreme, and Sasha Velour dramatically mimicked the three wise monkeys. It was artistic and hilarious. After that, Fishy looked a little lost in her photos, both with the group and with Valentina and Brooke Lynn Hytes, but she was still beautiful. 

When Stormy's pictures were shown to the group, Stiles understood why he was worried. She wasn't the first person to grab a viewer's attention, reclining on the small set of stairs in front of the throne, and she looked stiff and uncomfortable when Stiles studied the photograph. He leaned into Stormy, using his hand to rub his back; Stormy sighed and bowed his head. The picture with Jinkx and Trinity looked better, and Stiles made a point to tell Stormy that he thought that picture was good. 

Stiles hated thinking it, but he was glad Sarah Ashley's pictures weren't very strong, too. He thought it would have been worse for Stormy to see his pictures followed by a stronger performance. 

Claire did a bit better, posing in front of the court and with her drag mom, and then the slideshow ended and their focus was drawn back to RuPaul and Todrick. 

"You are all gorgeous," Todrick said. "For this week's photo challenge, though, we can only pick one winner."

The contestants all seemed to pause their breathing simultaneously. 

He grinned. "Dominique, you're the winner this week," he announced. 

Swallowing his disappointment, Stils grinned and did his best to look supportive. Dominique was beautiful in her photograph. She deserved to win; Stiles' insecurity and jealousy were valid feelings but they were not reasons for another queen to be chosen. 

"For winning, you will receive a trip to Club Caye, just outside of San Pedro, Belize," RuPaul said. "Airfare and six days, seven nights, all-inclusive, courtesy of To the End of the Rainbow Travel Agency." 

Dom clutched his hands to his chest. "Ohmigod, thank you so much!" he exclaimed. 

#####

_ ("Were you disappointed you didn't win the first photo challenge?" Marcia asks. _

_ Stiles shakes his head. "I think we were all disappointed, but that's just the game," he replies. "We all want… well, I can't think of the word. Somewhere between justification and approval?" _

_ "Validation?" _

_ "Yes! That!" Stiles exclaims.) He snorts and runs a hand over his head. "And Dom… she's gorgeous. She knows how to work a camera—and lighting. And her freaking face. I've got a fifty-fifty chance of even pointing myself towards the camera.  _

_ "It makes sense that she won," he continues. He shrugs. "She deserved to win."  _

#####

"Now. For your first runway challenge, we're not just doubling down on the royal theme—we're tripling down on it," RuPaul said after the excitement of Dominique's win died down a bit. "You'll have to turn out three looks: Princess Tea Party, Royal Cotillion, and Warrior Queen on the Battlefield." 

Stiles blinked.  _ Three costumes?! _

"The wall of fabric is at your disposal," Todrick said. "Courtesy of Material Made. You can also use the wigs provided by Rockstar Wigs. One costume can be of your own drag, and you can use your accessories, shoes, and undergarments for all three." 

"We're also providing trunks of items you may find useful," RuPaul added. "Oh, Pit Crew!" 

As the underdressed male models walked into the room, pulling wheeled, wooden crates behind them, he grinned at the contestants. "I missed this part," he chortled. 

Todrick smirked. "Perks of the job," he agreed, perusing the men. 

"You'll find crowns and craft supplies and other royal delights in these boxes," RuPaul told the contestants. 

"Dominique, because you won the photo challenge, you get a sixty second head start," Todrick added. 

When Dom was given permission to start rifling through the boxes, he hurried forward and flipped open the lids of each of them and peered inside. He pulled out a couple tiaras, a handful of cheap costume jewelry, and a sceptre; after surveying their remaining contents, he pulled out some ribbon, glitter paint, and a few other items Stiles couldn't identify because he was rushing forward with the others at RuPaul's indication that Dom's extra time had ended. 

Stiles struggled to find anything useful in the madness. He didn't even know what he was going to be, but he was scrambling to grab what he guessed might be helpful. He found strings of plastic pearls and a few loose fake gems; he grabbed a package of acrylic craft paints and a set of brushes, and he snatched the last tiara even though it wasn't as shiny and sparkling as the ones everyone else snatched up before him. 

He retreated to a work table near the wall of fabric and looked over his bounty. Contestants were moving towards the wall; some were already taking bolts of fabric down and cutting off yards of fabric. Pastel shades were disappearing quickly. He needed to make up his mind and start gathering what else he needed. 

"Ladies!" 

Everyone stopped, mid-action, and looked at the crew member who shouted. 

"Our people are going to give you MP3 players with a playlist of songs for the lip syncs," he said. "Track one is for this episode, track two for the next episode, and so on. Technical issues with the players, check with a crew member. We will periodically take them to update the tracks. 

"We'll be watching you work for the next two days. Runway starts bright and early on the third day," he adds. "You won't always get so long to finish a challenge, so use the time wisely." 

Stiles bit back a groan. Two days to make three polished outfits was going to be difficult—and he wasn't looking forward to the schedule getting tighter, either. 

"Don't forget to put in Shade Tree time," he continues. "And we'll bring a meal in by eight o'clock tonight." 

After a nod, he walked back to join his crew. Chaos descended once again on the room as contestants returned to gathering supplies. It was interrupted—or added to—as a group of black-shirted production assistants descended upon them with small music players and sets of new earbuds, and then the buzz of activity turned back to costuming. 

Stiles looked between his nook in the room and the wall of fabric. He would figure this out and keep his head in the game; he would survive the first runway challenge. Failure was not an option. 

###

Hours later, Stiles shuffled into his room with a bag of sandwiches, sparkling water, and a few snack foods in one hand and a bag of craft supplies in his other hand. Ashleigh was talking, but he was ignoring her words; he focused on her proximity to him but that was all the mental capacity he had to spare for her ridiculousness. 

He closed the door before she could try to cross the threshold. He heard her squawk of surprise—or outrage—but he didn't care if he offended her. Her persistence offended him; he'd spent so many years around decent and indecent werewolves, he had a feeling she was the latter sort and he had no desire to spend any more time around her than was absolutely necessary. 

Besides, he had a crapload of work to do before he could go to bed. 

He dropped his food on the bed and took his hosiery to the bathroom sink to wash. When the thin, stretchy garments were hung over the little clothesline in the shower, he turned on the ceiling fan and dug his contraband phone out of his boot. 

Stiles smiled at the message from Cora— _ Are you surrounded by crazy bitches? Are you turning into a crazy bitch?! You better not! _ He wrote back a quick message _ —Too soon to tell! On both counts! Lmao— _ and switched to his conversation with Nick. 

_ Antonio and Jeremy are rooting for you, too _ looked up at him and warmed his heart. Even though Stiles only met him a couple of times, he liked Jeremy; the alpha had influenced Nick's ruling style as much as Antonio had through their father-son relationship. The two men made a good team; they cared about their pack, and they cared about other packs. That they were helping Derek stick it to the McCall pack only earned them more points with Stiles. 

He wrote a longer reply to Nick:  _ I'm very glad I have all of you in my corner. Saw some familiar faces. Good and bad. Trying to make friends. Not sure what I signed up for here! Ashleigh is going to be a problem. She acts like… a newb who thinks she's got godlike powers. But Clay knows about her and I think he'll be a help. I miss the pack. I miss… yeah. All the stuff. There's a ww contestant. He is looking for a new pack in Cali. McCall reached out to him. I told him I'd put in a word with my alpha—Libbey knows about him, could you talk to her and get the 411? I know you wouldn't say yes without meeting him a few times, but… the idea of him moving to BH… it feels wrong. Mostly because of how they treated me when they found out about Little Red. He deserves better. Plus, all the stuff we don't know about. Anyway! I've got a pile of stuff to do before I can crash. Gonna text D and get started on my to-dos. <3 _

When he saw Derek's texts, his heart warmed in his chest. 

_ Antonio owns the building and I'm back in BH.  _

_ I'm fine. Brief meeting about patrol route. More loops in a night; territory isn't changing as far as I know.  _

_ Peter is gone on some sort of mission for the next two weeks so I'm packing up the vault tonight. Thank god. Should get everything ready to go for when the kids show up.  _

_ I want you to win but I also can't wait to see you when you're done.  _

_ Miss your scent. And your laugh.  _

With a smile on his face, Stiles wrote back:  _ I miss you, too, big guy. Did anyone say what Peter's up to? I'm betting on recruiting or alliances. If I had to guess. One of my new friends is a ww too (not Ashleigh ugh, someone far more reasonable and sane) and he said McCall reached out when he started shopping for a better fitting pack. I mentioned to N already. Anyway! Glad you're getting some time to pack up the vault without Uncle Creeper lurking in the shadows. Today was tough. But saw some of Nikki's friends and that helped. Gonna get my craft on tonight. And you better believe I cannot wait to see you again. You better pick me up at the airport. I want one of those devastating, earth-shattering "welcome home" smoochfests when I land. Your lips on my lips. Your scent + my scent. ASAP. Ink it in your day planner xoxo _

He turned off the phone and put it back in its hiding place. The agitation he'd felt, gnawing at his nerves, faded into something much easier to ignore as he reconnected (as best as he could) with his pack and mate. 

Derek was his mate—or the one, since that was the mundane equivalent. He had a feeling he was Derek's mate, and he was relieved; he hated when relationships were unbalanced, even though he rarely felt romantically attracted to anyone enough to take the leap. The way Derek looked at him, the way Derek had waited for him… something about it felt  _ right. _ He was all in and it looked like Derek was all in, too. He wanted a mate and he wanted that bond, even if he'd never feel it as strongly as a werewolf would feel it. He wanted everything Derek was willing to give him. 

It wasn't one-sided, though. Any time Stiles thought about the two of them, he imagined how it would be to just give Derek all of him. He wanted to surrender and receive surrender and treasure what developed between them. 

If he weren't entered to compete in a televised event, he'd be with Derek, in body as well as in spirit. 

But, he  _ was _ entered to compete in a televised event. 

And he still had a few props to make before he crashed for the night. 

For his runway challenges, he decided on a theme that would stretch through all three of his looks. He was going to dress as Princess Serenity: for the first look, he would wear his anime-themed schoolgirl costume, adjusted with accessories to make him look like Usagi; for the second look, he would wear a dress he planned to sew to resemble her Princess of the Moon look, complete with her wand (that he would be trying to make that night), complete with the tiara he would dress up to resemble something she might wear; and, for the third look, he would wear a duplicate of the white dress (he cut out three copies of his dress already) stained in blood (or the dark red paint he hid in his cosmetics cupboard) with the armour he'd packed for a Xena-esque costume (also to be stained with red pain) and an axe with more Moon Prism vibes that he planned to start making that night, too. 

It was a lot of work, above and beyond the requirements of the challenge, but he liked the idea of a cohesive theme. A couple other queens had the same idea—a theme connecting the costumes, not specifically Sailor Moon—but most everyone seemed to be working on three separate looks for the runway event. 

He understood everyone would approach the challenge differently. He just hoped his approach would put him over the top. 

As nervous as he was, and as much as he wanted to go home and see his pack and mate, he still wanted to do well in the competition—for Nikki and their drag family, for the pack, but mostly for himself. 

He got to work after a few bites of his sandwich. By the time he crashed for a sweet (but insufficient) four hours of sleep, his moon wand and axe were finished and drying. The next day, he'd have to start on his clothes and jewelry. 

#####

_ ("Everyone's really buckling down and working hard," Stiles says as he settles in his chair. "The work room has a crazy vibe right now. Guess it's how things will be for the next few weeks."  _

_ Marcia nodded. "Probably, yeah," she agreed, smiling almost apologetically at him. "What do you think about the other contestants' outfits?"  _

_ Even though he knows the producers would expect shade, he has no shade to throw. Stiles may not want to wear all of them (and, okay, he might see some ways to improve some of the costumes), but he really thinks everyone's doing the best they can do. The queens' collective energy is high, there's very little drama in the room, and they're all focused on turning out royal looks.  _

_ "I think we're going to be a gorgeous group," he says. _

_ The tilt of Marcia's head tells Stiles she was hoping for something with a bit more snark. He braces himself for another question.  _

_ "What do you think of Dom's work so far?" _

_ Stiles barely restrains the urge to roll his eyes. He watched all the previous seasons, of the regular, all-stars, and celebrity versions of the show, and he knows the producers and editors need content to create angles and storylines; he doesn't want the chafing between him and Dom to be one of their big stories, and he is beginning to suspect he might not have a choice in the matter.) _

_ "Dom's got a whole Xena, Warrior Princess thing going on on his mannequin right now," Stiles says. "I think Dominique's gonna look hot in it."  _

_ (Marcia grins and nods. Seeming eager, she leans forward. "Hotter than you?" she asks.)  _

_ "Gawd, she's always hotter than me," Stiles says. "She is pure fish."  _

_ (Marcia slumps back in her seat and sighs.)  _

#####

After RuPaul and Todrick left the workroom, the cameramen moved back to the outskirts of the room and the contestants' activity became much more frenzied. They were lucky; they had more time to finish the three costumes than Stiles assumed other seasons had to finish their challenge, and there was no word (yet) about a musical number. 

But, there was a lot of pressure  _ because _ they had so much time. 

Todrick had impressed that much upon Stiles when he came to the table he was sharing with Rachel. He hadn't seemed too impressed with Stiles making two of the same dress (while the third group of fabric pieces was tucked away as back-up, in case he made a mistake); Stiles tried to explain that they'd be different, in the end, but Todrick only gave him a stern look and a few words of warning before moving on to gush over the work Fishy was doing at the next table. 

"Don't listen to him," Rachel whispered as he glued gold braiding to a corset. "I heard things earlier. From far away." 

Stiles looked up at him. Werewolf ears would be so handy. The warehouse was mostly open space; apart from a few walls, and the soundproof shade tree booths, there was nothing to hinder a werewolf from eavesdropping. 

"Fuck, you minx," Stiles murmured, eliciting a laugh from Rachel. "I am so jealous right now." 

"I'll tell you later, when there are fewer ears," he said. 

Stiles smiled. "Bathroom break before lunch?" 

Rachel nodded. "It's a date." 

They caught sight of a camera turned towards them. Stiles wanted to freak out—wondering what they'd noticed and when they'd focused on him and Rachel—but Rachel started to laugh. Stiles laughed with him; if the werewolf wasn't freaking out, they were probably safe. 

As their laughter faded, Stiles heard Crema curse. He tossed his scissors down and crossed his arms; glaring down at the fabric on the table. Stiles stopped pinning his layered skirt pieces together. He was ahead of (his personal) schedule; he could afford to be helpful for a few minutes. 

No one else seemed too concerned by Crema's outburst—not even Claire, who was sharing the table with Crema. Stiles took a moment to breathe and walked over to them. 

"Everything okay?" he asked. 

Crema frowned. "I messed up my tea party skirt." 

"How?" Stiles asked as he leaned over and looked at the blue fabric. 

"I cut it too short," Crema replied. "It's supposed to be knee length, like a pencil skirt." 

Stiles hummed as he looked over the work Crema had already done. He had a tight-fitting vest on his mannequin; a little flouncy flare was pinned to it around the waist. He understood the silhouette was meant to show off curves and a strut, and he understood why Crema looked so disappointed. 

But, he also knew it could be fixed. 

"Okay. Two suggestions," he said. "You could make another ruffle like the one at your waist and attach it to the hem. Or, you could make it shorter and use some of the tulle from the fabric wall to make it a poofier skirt. You'd still get to play on an hourglass figure that way." 

Crema launched himself at Stiles, hugging him as he smooched Stiles' cheek. 

"Thanks, Stellah," he murmured. 

"No problem," Stiles said. "We can all get derailed when things don't go according to plan." 

Even though Crema tried to engage him in more conversation, Stiles extricated himself as delicately as possible and returned to his own table. He had layers to add to his floaty skirts and he had to figure out how he was going to paint blood on one of his costumes. He had some time, but he didn't want to waste that time chatting with someone with whom he didn't really feel a strong connection. 

Rachel seemed pleased he didn't stick around the other table. As soon as he was back, he brushed a hand over Stiles' neck and shoulder; Stiles knew it was a scent thing, having been around enough born werewolves. He appreciated the gesture and told Rachel so with a smile. 

It wasn't a best friends competition, but Stiles really hoped he and Rachel both made it to the end of the race.  Having a (sane, stable, and reasonably friendly) werewolf at his side in the workroom made it almost feel as if he were back at home. 

###

Stiles knew something was wrong as soon as he walked into his hotel room. The top dresser drawer was open, and the bed showed signs of someone rolling around on top of it. 

Afraid of what he'd find, Stiles crept towards the dresser and peered inside the open drawer. Cora's shirt was still there, but Nick's shirt was gone. 

Ashleigh—it had to be Ashleigh, because no one else would have had a reason, however ridiculous, to rummage through his stuff—had taken his alpha's shirt. 

"Fuck," he muttered. 

The bed was easy to fix. He called the hotel front desk, because the phone's internal calling hadn't been disabled, and asked if someone could bring fresh bedding (including a comforter and blankets) to one of the crew to bring to his room. 

He hoped Ashleigh wouldn't be the one to bring the clean sheets and covers. 

While he waited, he pulled out the baggie of mountain ash and started spreading it around. He put a small line against the bottom of the dresser; it was so fine a line he could barely see it in the carpet, but he could feel the boundary snap into place as soon as he closed the line behind the generic piece of furniture. 

The next area that was blocked off was the closet. It didn't look like anyone had rifled through his hanging garments; however, he didn't want to take the chance that his phone would be found. As soon as he confirmed that it was still in his boot, he tucked it away and sprinkled a line of ash outside the doors of the closet. 

He would sprinkle a line along the door, too, once he got his new sheets and blankets. 

He hoped Clay would bring him the bedding; if he did, there was a chance they could talk behind closed doors. 

In the absence of his pack, Stiles wanted a werewolf-level hug, away from cameras. 

He sat down on the floor and rubbed his hands over his face. They were splattered in red paint, but it had dried and he didn't care. He'd be showering, anyway, as soon as he changed the bed and finished moving mountain ash into place. 

The day had been a rollercoaster. There had been highs and happy moments, but the stress of trying to finish his costumes and the intrigue of what Rachel had overheard twisted his brain into knots. His costumes were almost finished—he just had to finish his wigs—and he felt better knowing that there were some unseen politics driving the critiques. However, just as he thought he was processing and finding ways to deal with his situation, Ashleigh had to go and steal the shirt Nick had worn for him. 

_ Fuck. _

She wasn't going to leave him alone. She seemed to think she had a chance with him, for reasons passing his understanding. Usually, when girls found out he did drag, they assumed he was gay. If he corrected them and said he dated girls, too, they were usually either completely turned off or they thought he was lying. He never had to explain being on the asexual spectrum, because they never saw him as an option once drag became a known factor. Interested guys were different, and they had to be told he didn't feel physical attraction without emotional or romantic attraction. But, girls  _ usually _ weren't interested in Stiles when they learned about Stellah. 

Ashleigh didn't share the popular female opinion, though. 

He assumed it was because he was a part of a pack. Before she first met him, he'd been thoroughly scented by Nick, Cora, and Derek. She could be reacting to that. 

But, Rachel hadn't gone crazy when they'd met. 

The knock at the door stopped him from contemplating the situation much more. He climbed to his feet and peeked through the peephole. 

_ Clay  _ was standing there with a pile of bedding in his arms. 

He opened the door and launched himself at the werewolf. It didn't matter; Clay wouldn't hold it against him. 

Instead, Clay caught him and held him close. 

"Easy… it's okay," Clay murmured. He sniffed the air and nudged Stiles back. "How about I help you make the bed before I tape the door again?" 

Stiles nodded and backed up more to let Clay into the room. He sniffed the air again. 

"What was Ashleigh doing in here?" he asked. 

"So it was her," Stiles muttered as he rubbed his hand through his hair. "She was snooping. And rolling around on my bed. She took the shirt Nick gave me." 

"You still have Derek's," he said, gesturing to Stiles' torso. 

After another nod, Stiles said, "Yeah. And Cora's. But… Nick's…"

"My alpha." 

"Yeah," Clay agreed. He frowned. "Did she find anything else?"

"No… not yet," Stiles replied. "I checked. It's all safe." 

Clay nodded. After scowling at the bed, he started tugging off the bedding and throwing it to the floor by the door. 

"So fucking disrespectful," Clay muttered. "I wonder what her problem is." 

"She's, ah, made… overtures," Stiles said. "Of a… flirtatious variety."

Clay growled. To him, a mate was something important—if not sacred. Stiles knew how he felt about Elena; Nick had told him stories about the way Clay had behaved after Elena had tried to live as a human, and how strong their bond became after she returned to the pack and worked on embracing her life. Clay respected what had developed and blossomed between Stiles and Derek because he understood that sort of relationship was meant to be cherished. 

In Ashleigh's defense, she didn't realise Stiles had a  _ mate. _ But, she knew he had a partner and she saw no problem trying to encroach on that relationship. 

Clay did not approve. 

As his eyes flashed blue, Stiles reached out and touched his arm. 

"I'm okay. She's… okay, she is being pretty disrespectful," he said. "And terrifying. But, don't…"

"I won't," Clay promised. He sighed. "I don't wanna risk getting kicked out before you're done. But I will be having words with her." 

"Don't make her give back the shirt. I don't want anything with her scent on it," Stiles said. 

Clay looked him in his eyes. "You'll put mountain ash across the door after I leave, right?" he asked. 

Stiles nodded. 

"Good. Window ledges, too, all right?" 

"Yeah… yeah. That's a good idea," Stiles agreed. 

He didn't think any werewolf would try to climb the exterior wall, but he trusted Clay's judgement. It would be better to act cautiously until they knew how much farther Ashleigh was willing to push the situation. 

Seemingly satisfied, Clay turned his attention back to the bed. He stripped it by himself; once the used bedding was all piled up by the door, he gestured at Stiles and allowed him to help. They redressed the pillows and tugged the fitted sheet into place. Clay draped the loose sheet over the mattress and they each tucked in a corner; they did the same with the blankets and comforter. 

"Can I sit?" Clay asked. 

"As long as you cuddle me for a few minutes," Stiles stipulated. 

Clay cracked a small smile at that. "Sure," he agreed. "You're the closest thing to pack I have right now, too." 

At that, Stiles realised he wasn't the only one on his own. He had Rachel in the workroom, but Clay only had Ashleigh behind the scenes. He sat down when Clay sat on the bed and he wasn't shy about wrapping his arms around Clay's shoulders. 

"Just six weeks at the most," Stiles muttered. 

Clay huffed out a little laugh and leaned against the headboard and pillows; he pulled Stiles with him, and let their bodies tangle up in a way that was all about comfort. He was warm and solid and real in a world that was so fake. He almost felt like home. 

"How was the day apart from all this stalker drama?" Clay asked. 

"Okay. Todrick doesn't like my plan for the runway challenge—"

"You'll prove him wrong," Clay interjected. 

"—and Rachel overheard some stuff that makes it sound like the judges already have favourites," Stiles continued. 

"Yeah, I heard that, too," Clay confirmed. "They were… havin' a dramatic conversation in one of the, uh, edit suites." 

"Rachel only told me a bit. I didn't want to push. Can I ask—"

"Todrick wants Dom to win—he really liked the dancing and acting she did in a couple music videos over the last year," Clay said. "He only gave up one of his picks for the conflict or drama you might bring, with you two together. He doesn't think you're winner material." 

After a sigh, Stiles said, "Well, I can't lie—that fucking sucks. If they already have their winners picked—"

"It's not a foregone conclusion," Clay interjected. "That, uh, one of the other judges… Michelle, right? She said a lot can happen between now and the finale. And she's right." 

"But, if they already—" 

Clay cut him off with a cluck of his tongue. "Since when have you ever laid back and accepted a lousy situation?" he asked. "That's not the Stiles I know." 

"I… okay, good point," Stiles admitted. 

"You have burned bridges and scorched earth to do what's right for yourself and for others," Clay continued. "And now, you're in a contest to prove to yourself you're at the top of your game, and you're going to lie down and concede the judges are right in their assumptions about you? Without even tryin' to prove them wrong? That doesn't sound like you at all." 

Stiles blushed and tucked his face into Clay's shoulder. "Shaddup," he mumbled. 

Chuckling, Clay patted his back. "You're gonna kick ass," he said. "I've got faith in you. I've seen what you can do when there's real danger—" 

"Clearly you haven't been backstage during a drag show when two people are planning on performing the same song," Stiles muttered. 

At that, Clay laughed again. "No, I'll leave that kind of mayhem to you an' Nick," he murmured. 

Stiles smiled and closed his eyes. Clay gave off the same warmth as every werewolf who had cuddle privileges; he was strong like Nick and Derek and he had that same feeling of  _ dangerous but safe _ that they exuded as easily as they breathed. 

"Feel better?" Clay asked. After Stiles nodded, he said, "I've never seen a human take to pack life the way you do. We don't have a lot of humans with us, full time, back at Stonehaven, so I always assumed… humans don't feel it the same way." 

"Maybe it's just because I'm the emissary?" Stiles said. "Most of it is habit. Nick had his work cut out for him when I joined the pack. I was a mess… and he just… kept grounding me through contact and talking—god, so much talking—"

Clay interrupted with a little chuckle. 

"—and now, this is what I want when I'm stressed," Stiles continued. "Not with just anyone. If Jake or Jared showed up and tried to hug me, I would've tazed them or had a panic attack." 

"Pack," Clay supplied. 

Stiles sighed. "Yeah. You're like… extended pack. My wolfie uncle. Or something."

"Does that make you my wolfie nephew?" Clay asked. 

Stiles snorted. "That makes me sound like a five year old kid." 

"Well, five more minutes, li'l tyke, and then we'll go back to reality." 

He wanted to protest—both the time limit and the nickname—but Stiles elected to keep his mouth shut so he could savour the last of their almost-pack moment. 

#####

_ As soon as he closes the door, Stiles sighs and turns into the cubicle. There's an armchair covered in green-and-pink faux fur and some sort of potted plant that cannot be real, since it looks alive and thriving in a windowless room; there's a small monitor and lights, as well as two cameras. It is set up to record a monologue—nothing more, nothing less—and Stiles has to force himself to sit down before he can run away.  _

_ (He sits down in the chair and rubs his hands over his face. He knows he needs to talk. He knows he's supposed to talk about issues with the other queens, but any small—for the moment—glitches he's been experiencing with Dom pale in comparison to Ashleigh going into his room and stealing Nick's shirt.  _

_ Clay helped. The new lines of mountain help, too.  _

_ But, he knows it's going to get worse before it gets better. The villains in his comic book of a life never quit while they're ahead. He knows Ashleigh is going to push.  _

_ If he names names and calls her out, she'll refute it. She's a part of the crew; she's on the inside. He's just a contestant. The producers could assume he's angling for a storyline. Todrick doesn't like him; Stiles could be eliminated.  _

_ But.  _

_ He's _ _ still afraid  _ and _ angry. Feeling either of those emotions loosens Stiles' lips. Feeling both at the same time is a guarantee he will say something. If he speaks his mind in the booth, there's a good chance he won't say something to set off the unbalanced werewolf while he's in her presence.  _

_ With that in mind, he looks into the camera and sucks in a sharp breath.  _

_ "Yesterday, I had my privacy violated," he says. "A member of your crew—and I know which one, because she's tipped her hand already—went into my room and stole an article of clothing that means a lot to me. She rolled around in my bed. Do you know how disturbing that is?  _

_ "One of the guys on your crew helped me change the bedding. Thank god. The last thing I wanted to do was sleep on those sheets after she helped herself to my territory! The one place I have the semblance of privacy! I can't… I don't know what to do about this." _

_ He looks away from the camera for a moment. When he returns to look into the lens, his anger is overpowering his fear.  _

_ "I want to be a part of this competition so badly, and I know you pretty much own us for the next few weeks, but this is a pretty piss-poor way to treat your contestants," he said, barely keeping the snarl out of his voice. "You made us go through psych evals before we were picked, but you hired a mentally unstable person with  _ zero _ boundaries and gave her everyone's room keys. What kind of show are you running here? Personal safety clearly doesn't matter, so long as you get your ratings!"  _

_ As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. He knows he's going to be eliminated in the first or second episode, depending on when they watch his footage.)  _

_ Stiles drops his head down into his hands. He doesn't want to explain his dismissal to Nick and the pack. He doesn't want to leave the show before he really gets into the competition and proves he is as good as any of the other contestants.  _

_ "I just…"  _

_ He groans and lifts his head. "It's only been a couple days… and I don't feel safe," he says in a softer voice. "I want to be here, but I don't know what to do about this." _

_ (After a deep breath, he asks, "Please just… make one of the guys my primary contact or minder or whatever it's called. Please?")  _

#####

The runway process was nothing like what Stiles expected. The cameras didn't show viewers that they got to walk the runway twice; the cameras didn't show viewers that they had to scramble like crazy people to change costumes, hair, and makeup between each theme. The cameras couldn't tell viewers how the air smelled of sweat, foundation, and glue. Viewers had no idea how many pictures and videos were taken of each contestant before they walked out onto the runway. And nothing could have prepared Stiles for the way his heart lodged in his throat as Jake walked him to the back of the runway. 

His schoolgirl-slash-princess tea party look earned a few compliments from the other queens. He'd been pretty pleased with how it turned out, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone—and especially not to Marcia, the person who usually hosted the scheduled, guided confessional moments while wearing their street clothes. 

His wig was styled the way Usagi's hair was drawn; he had two buns tied on top of his head, and long tails of hair fell down his back. To make the look more royal, he'd put two small, sparkly crowns from necklaces he mopped from the remnants of the craft supplies on hair clips and pinned them to the base of his wig's buns. A crescent moon was painted with gold eyeliner and other paints between his brows. 

His makeup was big and bold, compared to his first look in front of the royal court. He'd painted exaggerated eyelid creases with whites, pinks, and blues, while using white liner underneath his eyes to make his eyes look larger; black eyeliner that covered most of his eyelids and stacks of eyelashes completed the eye makeup. After contouring, he used magenta blush and a shimmering highlighter on his face; he used petal pink lip gloss after lining and sculpting his lips. He added a bit of glitter to his cheekbones. Blue contacts helped him feel more like Usagi than Stellah or Stiles. 

His schoolgirl uniform had been altered a bit to fit the tea party theme. He cut off the sleeves (and tried not to regret that too much) of his cropped navy blue blazer, so they were tiny short sleeves and he used a pair of white opera gloves to cover his arms. Bracelets made of pearlescent pink and blue beads rested around his wrists. He wore a white corset underneath the blazer, instead of a blouse. Instead of a red bow, he tied a thin red scarf in a loose bow and clipped a little moon he made out of cardboard and glittery paint to the center of the knot; the loose loop of the scarf draped around his neck and the bow fell down just below his breasts. His royal blue skirt was more poofy than pleated, and he made a couple extra skirt layers of white tulle to wear under it to accentuate its short hem and his fake curves. 

White stockings and garters on his legs, blue ankle boots on his feet, and a big red bow on the back of his skirt completed the look. 

His padding was well-disguised, and he felt like a princess… but he needed to wait until the final lineup in front of the judges to see if it landed. 

As soon as he walked off the runway, he pulled off his shoes and ran for the workroom—leaving the production assistant in his wake. He had no time to waste and he wasn't going to pretend to be patient and polite. He needed every minute he could get. 

He undressed on his way, pulling off gloves and accessories and outer layers as he entered the pink room. As soon as he hit his styling area, he dropped everything on top of a suitcase and reached for his next costume. The base dress for his royal cotillion look was as close to Princess Serenity's dress as he could get. He hadn't planned on keeping her dress tapered along his legs, but he'd had the idea to rip the second one (as if she'd been attacked, mid-party, and decided to forgo changing clothes to rush into battle), so he stuck to her silhouette in the show. The neckline was low and straight across his padded chest; small sleeves (hopefully) hid his shoulders. He removed the crown clips from his wig's buns and added a tiara he'd stoned with fake pearls. Clip-in extensions of blonde ringlets dressed up the long tails extending down his back. 

His makeup changed a bit. Over the glitter on his cheekbones and along his collarbones, he glued unicorn skin flakes to add more Moon Princess vibe to his look. He brightened up his eyeshadow with more blue and pink. To add drama (he hoped), he strengthened his eyeliner and added some glitter mascara to his stacked fake lashes. And then, on a whim, he added gold and holographic glitter to his forehead's crescent moon. 

Nude pumps replaced his discarded blue shoes. A white strip of sheer fabric acted like a shawl, hanging from his arms behind his back, and he thought it completed his look. 

Once he checked himself in the mirrors, fixed some stray hairs, and touched up his lip gloss, a crew member was shouting for him. He grabbed his pink and glittery moon wand and hurried out of the room. 

No one asked him any questions; no one suggested he start a conversation with anyone else in the room. He was relieved he could just focus on himself, in the frenzy of his first runway challenge. 

The second set of photographs and runway walks were another blur of activity. Once on stage, he heard noise—voices—from the judges panel, but the words didn't register. He remembered sashaying down the runway, and posing at each end, but then he was off the stage and quickly shuffling back to the workroom. 

For his last look, unlaced combat boots replaced his shoes. Before he splattered himself with paint, he took off his dress and wig. He used a hair dryer to speed up the paint's drying time. Instead of paint, red mascara got streaked through some of his wig; he  _ hated  _ doing that, because red rarely washed out of blonde wig hair, but it was only a little bit of red in a few places and it was necessary to complete the look. 

It wasn't all his personal wigs and extensions, anyway. 

After slipping into his stained and ripped dress, he threw on his armour and grabbed his pink, sparkling, and blood-splattered axe. He paused at the mirrors and had just enough time to break his tiara in two pieces (and secure those pieces to his wig with bobby pins) before he was being summoned back to the stage area. 

When he posed for the cameras, he flashed back to wielding his baseball bat in defense of his former friends. Instead of feeling sadness, he tapped into the memory of determination and exhilaration; he posed as if he were about to try to protect his loved ones from a feral omega wolf. The photographer and videographer seemed to enjoy the performance and he moved off the backdrop feeling a bit more confident. 

Before he was given the go ahead to take the few steps up to the back of the runway, Stiles forced himself to take a few deep breaths. The day was almost over, in terms of the episode, but he knew they still had hours to go before they knew who would be going home. 

He said a prayer to the powers that might be in hope that it wasn't him who had to pack his suitcases and leave.

###

Standing between Rachel and Dixie, Stiles and the rest of the contestants faced the judges table. RuPaul and Todrick were flanked by Michelle Visage and Colleen Ballinger, respectively; Andrew Garfield was on Michelle's other side, while Anne Hathaway sat next to Colleen. RuPaul looked decadent in her frothy purple gown; Todrick was wearing a sparkling tiara on his head and a shirt with a frilly collar that reminded Stiles of baroque costuming. Michelle looked great in her high-neck blouse and black bustier. Colleen had an air of confidence to her in her red blouse and dark-framed glasses. Anne and Andrew cleaned up nicely, too, but by the time he was ready to study them, his focus wandered. 

As RuPaul started talking about how they would alternate between lip syncing for their lives and for their legacies, and explaining the rules, Stiles drifted away from the present. All his focus had been used up on his runway challenges; it was too hard to pay attention when so many people were in front of him. 

He understood why Todrick would want to relaunch the drag empire. He profited off of it, the first time around. But, Stiles had been surprised… and, as he looked back at RuPaul and Todrick, both interacting with each other and the other judges as they discussed proceedings, he could only assume enough time had passed to forgive and forget and do better. Reputations could be destroyed quickly, but they could be repaired over ten years (and with Taylor Swift and other famous artists in one's corner). 

Stiles didn't understand that. He rarely forgave—or forgot. He tried to do what most considered as better, but it was a struggle. 

"Welcome, ladies," RuPaul said, "to the first runway for the new Drag Race." 

Stiles blinked. Rachel snorted next to him. She'd clearly noticed him drifting. 

"We asked a lot of you this week," Todrick said, "and overall, you delivered." 

RuPaul leaned forward ever-so-slightly in her seat. 

"Ladies, please step forward when I say your name," she said. "Lazer Rachel—"

Rachel took a step forward. 

"—Dominique du Poisson—"

Dominique stepped ahead of the pack. 

"—Rosetta Bone—"

As instructed, Rosetta moved forward. 

"—Viva Capricious—"

Viva Capricious followed suit and took a step out of the line.

"—Claire Saint Clair—" 

Claire took two dainty steps in her stiletto heels. 

"—Sar'Ashley Davenport—"

Swaying her hips from side to side, Sarah Ashley joined those who had their names announced. 

"—Dixie Harder." 

Dixie joined them, too, after a very quiet squeak of surprise. 

"You seven are safe," RuPaul said. "You may leave the stage—but remember, safe isn't where you want to linger." 

They all murmured their agreement, before starting to file off of the stage. When Rachel and Dixie passed Stiles, they reached out and briefly squeezed his hand. Stiles smiled at them; once they left his gaze, though, he turned back to the judges and tried to shake off his nerves as subtly as possible.. 

_ God, _ he hoped he wasn't in the bottom three. 

"Ladies, you represent the tops and bottoms this week," RuPaul said. "And, this week, the bottom two will have to battle by lip sync to convince us to stay in the competition." 

"Now, it's time for the judges' critiques," Todrick added. 

After one clear nod, RuPaul turned to the other end of the stage. "First up, Crema Splash," she announced. 

Michelle seemed to like her, but her concerns about the age of Crema's characters affected her positive feedback. The older age of Crema's characters was a concern of Colleen and Todrick, too. Anne made a point of saying she liked Crema's kooky attitude; Andrew said he hopes she gets a musical performance challenge soon, because he thinks her energy is well-suited to stage productions. RuPaul suggested that she spend more time working on her silhouettes and trying to give them variety. 

After Crema, Tulips seemed to fare a bit better. She'd done a series of costumes with a theme—though the theme seemed to be more about her red crown and fake rubies than a specific character or person—and the judges seemed to appreciate that common thread. Colleen gushed for a bit because she thought Tulips looked stunning in red; surprisingly, Michelle agreed and supported Tulips' use of the colour because it made her stand out, but she declared that she'd wished Tulips had pushed the extremes of innocence, maturity, and ferocity in each of her looks. 

Hilary received the judges' opinions next. Todrick suggested that her looks were  _ too _ sexy, but Michelle and RuPaul reminded them all that Russian sex kitten was her schtick. Colleen thought she looked adorable—and Stiles wasn't sure if that was a plus or a minus—and Anne asked to borrow her tea party outfit for her next red carpet event. To pile on the humour and make the room laugh, Andrew asked to borrow her warrior queen outfit for personal and private use. 

As Stormy thought, she didn't do as well as she'd wanted to do. They brought up her photographs—how stiff and awkward she'd appeared to be, in particular—and transitioned from there to the three costumes she'd put together. Andrew and Colleen liked them as individual looks, but no one felt they really matched the theme set for the challenge. 

Stiles reached out and squeezed her hand when there was a lull in the critique. 

"Next, Stellah Stardust," RuPaul said. 

As his name was announced, Stiles startled. He knew it was obvious when RuPaul arched an eyebrow and looked at him. His cheeks flushed and his insides squirmed. 

#####

_ "Whoops. I'd been so focused on everyone else and… uh, other stuff that I forgot it was my turn next," Stiles admits, cringing at Marcia and the camera. _

#####

"Hi, sorry!" Stiles yelped. 

"Long day, huh?" Michelle asked, grinning. 

Stiles nodded. 

"This is a marathon, not a sprint," Todrick said, both of his eyebrows raised. 

Even though he desperately wanted to defend his exhaustion and lost focus, Stiles bit his tongue. He didn't think publicly whining about their crew would go over well. Instead of saying anything, he nodded and clasped his hands in front of his body. 

"Well, you worked hard this week and it shows, Stellah," RuPaul said. "You kept the same character through your three looks. I'm not sure, but it looks a little like—" 

Before she could finish speaking, Colleen exclaimed, "Sailor Moon! Ohmigod! I thought you looked familiar but I couldn't put it together!" 

Stiles smiled and nodded. 

"I wasn't sure what to expect after your photo shoot," Todrick admitted. "You were polished, but I couldn't get a feel for what sort of drag you favour." 

"Your portrait with Raja and Manila Luzon is gorgeous," Anne gushed. "You look really close and comfortable." 

RuPaul spoke next. "You're friends with them, right?" 

Nodding again, Stiles said, "They're close with my drag mom… so, that makes them my… aunties?" 

"That sounds about right," RuPaul agreed. "Do you think they influenced your looks tonight?"

After taking a moment to think about his response, Stiles said, "Even back when I first started, I liked trying to tell a story—or turning into someone else. But there are a few people who helped me figure out who I am—in and out of drag—and they're definitely on that list." 

"Found family is important in so many ways," RuPaul said, nodding again. "I'm sure they're all proud of you tonight." 

"I hope so," Stiles murmured. 

"Thank you, Stellah," she said. 

As RuPaul and the other judges turned their attention to Fishy Caliente, Stiles inhaled a long, slow breath. Fishy was quick to defend her over-accessorised warrior queen costume when Todrick suggested she simplify her looks before stepping onto the stage. Stiles didn't care; he seemed to have survived his first runway challenge. He was safe—he felt certain about that—and he would most likely see another few days of competition. 

"Thank you, ladies," RuPaul said, breaking into Stiles' thoughts and bringing him back to the moment happening around him. "I think we've heard enough. While you untuck in the restored and renovated Illusions Lounge, the judges, Todrick, and I will deliberate." 

On the director's cue, they filed off the stage. 

###

_ "All right… now, what do we think about Stellah Stardust?" RuPaul asks as she looks from Todrick to Michelle, and beyond them to Colleen, Anne, and Andrew.  _

_ Anne speaks first. "I want to see what she does for the rest of the competition," she says, her hands raised and waving enthusiastically. "She kept the same character through each look—and it was the  _ same _ character."  _

_ "Some of that's only her hair and makeup," Todrick argues. _

_ Colleen hums. "I don't know. She actually told a story. It was like 'we were having a party and our enemy struck—'" _

_ "'—and I didn't have time to change,'" Andrew finishes for her.  _

_ "Aside from that," Michelle says, "she gave us a completely different face. She was stylish but almost too simple earlier, in the royal court. And tonight, she's like… a cross between Trixie Mattel and Kim Chi—" _

_ ("With better control of her body," Todrick adds in a low voice.)  _

_ "—and I didn't see anything like that in her audition video," Michelle continues.  _

_ RuPaul nods, her big blonde curls bouncing. "I think she's telling the best story," she says. "I wasn't too sure what she was doing in the workroom, but she turned it out and impressed me."  _

_ (Todrick frowns at that. "You want her to do well," he says. _

_ At that, RuPaul frowns, too. "And you want her to fail," she counters. "This can't be decided in the first week. There's too much at stake—and there are far too many variables. Some of the other girls looked at this like these are three distinct looks—and that's fine, we didn't say they had to be tied together—" _

_ "Kinky," Andrew teases. _

_ She smiles a little again before she resumes speaking. "Something like that. But, Stellah went above and beyond, connecting her tastes and interests to the challenge to tell a chapter of a story every time she walked out on the runway," she says.)  _

_ "It's a lot, doing three looks in the first week," Colleen adds. "But she can sew, she can perform… she's showing she's ready for this—and I think she should be rewarded for it."  _

_ (Eventually, Todrick nods. "Yeah… yeah, okay. I can see that," he agrees.)  _

###

Dom scowled when Hilary said she was sure Stellah would be the winner of the challenge. Rachel tapped her glass of water against Stiles' glass of water (since both of them apparently requested non-alcoholic drinks), and Dixie made room for him to sit between her and Rachel on the pink sofa. 

It was, more or less, what Stiles expected. He leaned back into the cushions and smiled when Rachel slipped her hand around his arm and armour. 

Before anyone could say anything, a member of the crew came in with a small chest in his hands. It was covered in pink and clear gems; it was both gaudy and beautiful, at the same time. He set it on the table in front of Dom and Sarah Ashley and instructed them to wait a minute and then open it. 

Once he was clear of the cameras' view, Dom leaned forward and brushed her hand over the top of the chest. 

"What's this?" she asked. 

It took Stiles a moment to recall the second season of the show, and the fur-covered box that had questions in it. He was glad they wouldn't have to say any variation of  _ my pink furry box _ ; he was worried about what was inside the box, though, and what truths he'd have to protect from the cameras. 

Sarah Ashley reached out with one perfectly manicured hand. She flicked open the latch. Dom lifted the lid; she pulled out a card. 

"Oooh," she cooed. "'In honour of Episode One, let's take a look back at your Day One.'"

"What does that mean?" Stormy asked. 

Rosetta snorted. "Baby pictures?" she suggested. 

After a groan, Claire said, "Oh, god, I hope not." 

A large monitor opposite the seating area illuminated, as if on cue (which really was likely, given how staged so much of the show was), and it drew everyone's attention. Stiles smiled as a glamour shot of Dixie faded onto the screen; he bit back a laugh as a photograph of a younger Dixie in very rough drag. 

"Oh my fucking fuck! How did they find that?!" Dixie exclaimed. 

Rachel laughed and reached across Stiles to tweak Dixie's cheek. "You were adorable!" she laughed. "Look at that contouring!" 

Glaring at her, Dixie said, "Like yours was any better when you first started." 

Still laughing, Rachel said, "No, mine was probably worse." 

Stiles was pretty sure someone was controlling the feed of images, in the moment, because Rachel's pictures were the next to be shown. Stiles vowed to keep his mouth shut; if the judges finished deciding who would be lip syncing, they might have to leave the lounge before they displayed whatever photograph they'd unearthed from Stiles' days as Little Red. 

"Who's that?" Tulips asked Rachel when her early drag picture showed on the screen. 

A young woman was hugging Rachel close. Between the sunglasses and similar features, Stiles guessed that the woman was Rachel's sister or cousin.

"My sister," Rachel said, frowning. 

"You guys look close," Sarah commented. 

Rachel nodded. "We were," she agreed. 

Stiles balanced his axe prop on his lap and slid his hand over Rachel's hand, still wrapped around his arm. He knew that tone of voice; Derek's voice had that tone when he talked about Laura, and Stiles' own voice sounded like that when he talked about his parents. Combined with the facts that a lot of hunters were sadistic monsters and that werewolves' lives were dangerous, in general, Stiles assumed Rachel's sister was no longer alive. 

"She… died?" Claire asked. 

"Hunting accident," Rachel confirmed. 

Tuning out some of the queens' comments about the alleged sport of hunting, Stiles turned his head and tucked his face into Rachel's big hair. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. He felt Rachel nod. "Is there anything I can do?" 

"This," Rachel murmured. "It's been years. Seeing her face… just…" 

"Yeah," Stiles murmured back. 

Dom interrupted their quiet moment with a loud snort. "Speaking of hunting…" 

Stiles missed whatever recent shot they'd used, but he saw the picture of him dressed as Little Red—in a red plaid flannel shirt over a black corset top and a pair of very short and very faded cutoffs, complete with clunky boots, a toy rifle, and a baseball bat—between Lydia and Derek, with Scott and Danny on either side of them. He had a short and platinum blonde faux-hawk wig on his head; aside from contouring and lashes, he'd painted bruises and cuts on his face and body. 

Derek had his arm around Stiles' shoulders. Lydia was leaning towards him. Scott and Danny were close, but they weren't touching either Lydia or Derek; Scott looked tense, with his shoulders raised, and Danny was shirtless and relaxed. It summarised so much of his time at Jungle. 

"Oh, man," Stiles muttered. 

"Wow, Stellah has hot friends," Rosetta teased. 

After studying the picture, Dom said, "I recognise Derek. Who are the others?"

"People from my past," Stiles replied. "We used to be friends." 

"A long time ago, we used to be friends. But I haven't thought of you lately at all," Hilary sang, making Stiles crack a small smile against his wishes.

Dixie frowned. "What's that?" 

"Dandy Warhols song," Stiles said. "Was the theme song for Veronica Mars." 

"Ohhhh. Right. Weevil and Logan. Mmm yes," she said. 

Stiles snorted. 

"Which one's Derek?" Sarah asked. 

"The one always draped over Stellah," Dom replied. "I don't know what he sees in you." 

Stiles rolled his eyes. Truthfully, he wondered that sometimes, too, at his most insecure, but he knew he and Derek had a relationship built on trust and friendship that developed into more. Their appearances didn't matter; they had something much more profound than simple physical attraction. 

"He's your… the one," Rachel whispered. 

"Yeah," Stiles whispered back. 

"That is Stellah's man?" Crema asked. "Daaaamn. I really don't have a shot, do I?" 

Crema's words startled Stiles. He blinked, fully aware he probably looked like a stunned idiot, and tried to think of something clever to say. He wanted to defend Derek and make it clear that he was so much more than his looks; he wanted to let Crema down gently. In the end, wit deserted him and he had to play it straight. 

"Ah, no, sorry," Stellah said. "I'm very off the market."

The other queens laughed and ribbed Crema. Stiles tried to play along, but he was lost in his thoughts about Beacon Hills. He hadn't seen Scott in years; even though the photograph showed his younger self, it was still an emotionally jarring image. Getting Derek to San Francisco was an abstract reminder that things had changed; seeing Scott next to Lydia reminded him of the losses and pain Stiles experienced before deciding to break ties with Beacon Hills. He lost his brother; he lost his father and his home. He may have found a new pack and a new family—including Derek—but he still bore the scars of his past. 

#####

_ "Some people are meant to stay in your life forever," Stiles says, "and some people are not. Derek is the former, forever and ever, eternally, no question… the others are the latter." _

_ (Marcia frowns. "Do you miss them?" she asks.  _

_ "I miss the people they were when I believed we were friends and family," Stiles says. "I don't miss the people they've become over the years."  _

_ "What happened?"  _

_ Stiles frowns. There isn't much he can say. Even leaving the supernatural out of it, the truth would draw too much scrutiny down on Beacon Hills.  _

_ "Their priorities changed, and people they should have been protecting were hurt because of that," Stiles eventually says. "I broke ties with them after Dad died. Derek and memories of my family are the only good things to come from my hometown."  _

_ Marcia nods and jots something down on her tablet. Stiles frowns, concerned for his safety but more worried about Derek's safety, and he keeps talking.  _

_ "Please don't contact them," he says. "It's not safe for Derek—or me—if they… just, please don't get them involved in our life now." _

_ When she looks up at him, she must sense some of the desperation Stiles can feel fluttering in his chest because her eyes widen and the rest of her facial expression flattens into something more solemn. "We didn't reach out to anyone in your hometown, to get the picture," she says in a quiet, low voice. "Jungle had it in their photo archive on their website."  _

_ Nick may have made it sound as if Stiles had escaped an abusive situation, but he knows Scott and Lydia don't look scary in that picture. Appearance doesn't mean anything in those situations, but… Scott looks like a puppy, even as a grown man. He knows there's a possibility they could try to dig deeper into his past in an attempt to add drama; Nick hadn't seemed worried about it, but Stiles is already planning to text him about the possibility of Beacon Hills being contacted.  _

_ It couldn't hurt.) _

#####

"Five minutes!" 

Stiles set down his glass of sparkling water before standing up and wandering over to one of the mirrors. His appearance passed inspection, but he still dusted some powder on his nose. Some of the others were doing the same; others started gathering at the exit of the room. 

With the type of stealth all werewolves (even those in drag) possessed, Rachel appeared at his side. Years spent in the company of packs was the only thing that kept him from startling. She put a hand on his back and rubbed gently. 

"You good?" she asked. 

Stiles smiled. "I was going to ask you the same thing," he admitted. 

"Some days are still rough, but… yeah, I'm okay. She was… well, it's complicated. As those things can be," Rachel said. 

Knowing all too well about the strife between hunters and werewolves, Stiles nodded. 

"Must be complicated for you, too," she said. 

She could have been from a pack that had been allied with the Hales; if she recognised Derek as being a Hale, she would have assumed Stiles was aware of the devastation the Argents caused. She could have recognised Scott, if she'd met him in person already, and realised Stiles had reasons for trying to convince her to consider his alpha and pack as a viable option for a new, permanent home. Or, she could be assuming that he faced dangerous situations on a regular basis simply because he was a part of a pack. 

Luckily, he couldn't say much with the cameras and microphones all around them. 

Rachel stiffened before he could confirm or deny her statement. She turned slightly, eyes sharp and focused on Dom and a producer; they were standing a few feet away from the group, talking quietly. No one else seemed concerned, but—as far as Stiles knew—no one else had Rachel's range of hearing. 

"Stellah, Rachel!" Dixie called out, waving her gloved hand. "Come on—we're heading back to the stage."

"Watch out for her," Rachel hissed as they walked. "I'll tell you later."

Stiles didn't need to be told to watch out for Dominique. He wondered why Rachel was helping him, though. 

Was it out of some sense of loyalty or solidarity, since he knew about werewolves and understood pack life? Did Rachel hope Stiles would convince his alpha to welcome her into his pack? Was she trying to build an alliance in the competition? Or (and he hated to think it, but his suspicious mind introduced the idea and he couldn't completely dismiss it), was she trying to earn his trust for some initiation-type mission on Scott's behalf? 

He hoped it was the first option. He prayed it wasn't the last option. 

They filed back out onto the runway stage. Everyone who had been declared safe stayed at the back, while those who had been singled out as the highs and lows of the challenge positioned themselves at the end of the runway in the same line from before the time in the lounge. Stiles stood at the left end with Stormy on her right side. He missed Rachel's reassurance and Dixie's confidence; he tried to tell himself it wasn't an opportunity to make friends, and that they weren't pack, but he knew that he never fared well completely alone so he was trying to make connections to help ease his separation from the people in his heart. 

After a cue from the director, Todrick folded his hands against the table and leaned forward. "Tulips, you kept a running theme through your three separate looks," he said. "But, try to dig deeper and tell a story with your art." 

Tulips nodded. 

"You're safe," he said. "You may join the others." 

After another nod, and a murmured  _ thank you _ to the judges, Tulips turned on her heel and walked to the back of the runway. 

"Stellah Stardust," Todrick said, turning his cool gaze onto Stiles. "Your storytelling is on point tonight. You took us on a journey—on an adventure." 

Next to him, on one side, Colleen smiled and leaned into Todrick ever-so-slightly; next to him, on the other side, RuPaul nodded and smiled that mysterious smile she often wore. 

"So, what I'm saying is: congratulations, Stellah," Todrick continued. "You are the winner of this week's challenge. You've won a five thousand dollar gift certificate from Luscious Lashes, creator of custom costume lashes for performance arts of all orientations." 

Stiles pressed his hand to his chest as his heart pounded. That would be so many lashes if they were generic; it would still be a lot of lashes, even as custom-designed sets. He loved matching lashes with wigs or having fancier coloured lashes for specific costumes. It might not be the final prize, but it was still a good prize. 

"Oh my god, for real?" he asked. 

Michelle chuckled. "For real, girl," she confirmed. 

After inhaling a shaky, fluttering breath, Stiles looked at each judge. "Thank you," he said. "I… wow. Can I go back with the others before my knees give out?" 

Both RuPaul and Todrick chuckled, but it was Todrick who nodded and dismissed him. 

Hilary found herself to be safe, although she was warned to try other shapes and looks that don't rely on body and sexuality. Fishy was the first one told she would be lip syncing; and then it was down to Crema and Stormy. 

Based on the earlier critiques, Stiles had a feeling it was going to be Stormy. 

He ended up being right, but he didn't like it. Between Rachel and Dixie, he grabbed their hands and waited. It was all he could do. 

###

After Stormy was told to  _ sashay away _ , Stiles wanted to rush out after her and give her a big hug. He comforted himself with the knowledge that there would probably be time to write her a note and put it in her station before she packed to leave. He won the challenge, so was supposed to be celebrating; but, the reminder that he was in a competition was driven home (again), and he was processing a mixed bag of feelings as a result. 

"Cue music!" Duncan shouted, pulling Stiles from his thoughts. "Ladies! At the front!" 

In the shuffle, Rachel tugged Stiles close and hugged him. Stiles was about to ask what she was doing, but then she started whispering in Stiles' ear. 

"They assigned Dom the task of getting you to admit your backstory," she whispered. With their microphones crushed between their bodies, Stiles doubted anyone could hear them. "I think they want to figure out who McCall and the others are to you." 

Stiles frowned and sighed. Rachel knew who Scott was; he'd assumed as much, and he also knew it didn't necessarily mean anything. They might have met—or just had a video call. It didn't mean that Rachel was a part of Scott's pack. It didn't mean Rachel couldn't be trusted. 

But, it did mean he'd have to be more careful. 

When they separated, Stiles nodded. Rachel nodded, too, and walked past him towards the group congregating in front of the judges. They would have a few minutes of dancing to the season's theme music, followed by some promotional pictures with the guest judges, and then they would go back to the lounge for a few minutes. When Stormy was clear of the workroom, they'd be able go back and see what she wrote on the mirror in lipstick. 

Stiles hoped they'd be able to change and go to bed after that. He wanted to send messages to Nick about the latest developments; he wanted to read Derek's texts and settle into bed with that warm lovey-dovey feeling in his chest. 

After the emotional rollercoaster of the day, he was empty. He needed to recharge. 

#####

_ "Oh my god, I am living for these looks," Raja says as they look down at the pictures of Stellah Stardust from her first runway challenge. _

_ "Such a proud auntie," Monét teases.  _

_ Raja laughs as Raven nods her head. "I am!" they exclaimed. "She looks so fierce! This is… anime fantasy realness and high fashion and storytime, all at once."  _

_ "Kim tweeted last night, showing all the nerd love for this," Monét says.  _

_ "Toot or boot?" Raven asks.  _

_ "I'll say 'toot,'" Monét replies.  _

_ Nodding, Raven says, "Me, too. Raja?"  _

_ "She's getting a shoot from me," Raja replies.  _

_ Raven snorts and rolls her eyes. "Really? Already? I had no idea you were such a Sailor Moon fan."  _

_ "I am a Stellah Stardust fan," Raja says, clarifying her position.  _

_ "No shit," Raven mutters, earning a playful shove from Raja and a cackle from Monét.  _

_ "What? Are you telling me you two don't have favourites already?" Raja asks.  _

_ After a little shrug, Raven says, "Well… in this episode, I do think Rosetta should have been more than safe. But, it's… I feel like I can't have favourites because I'm involved behind the scenes."  _

_ Monét snorted. "Girl, don't front. You have a favourite." _

_ "I will by the fifth episode."  _

_ Raja gestures towards Monét. "What about you?" they ask.  _

_ "I'm really liking Lazer Rachel and Viva Capricious," Monét replies. "I'm looking forward to seeing what they do over the season."  _

_ After a hum and a nod, Raja says, "Yeah, they looked great in the episode."  _

_ "It's a really great group," Raven says. "No one seems outmatched. The rest of the challenges are going to be tight, too."  _

_ Raja nods again. "Guess we'll have to wait and see, then, huh?"  _

##### 

Because Stiles' luck didn't hold out, it was a few hours before they were shuttled back to the hotel. He saw Ashleigh in the corridor and he rolled his eyes; the last thing he wanted to do was deal with her. 

"Congratulations," she said once they were alone. 

"Thanks," he muttered. 

He moved past her and headed towards his room. All he had to do was get his door open and then he could walk across the mountain ash barrier. 

After he put his keycard in the door, she reached out and put her hand on his arm. 

"Look, I… I have something for you," she said. 

Stiles moved out from under her touch. "What?" he asked. 

Her smile turned into a smirk as she held out Nick's shirt. Stiles didn't need to bring it to his nose to know it would no longer smell like Nick. 

"You disrespected me and my alpha, doing what you did," he said in a low growl of a voice. "You think I want anything to do with you or that shirt now? You're delusional." 

It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say, but Stiles was done—physically and psychologically. He wanted a hot shower and at least a few hours of sleep. He didn't want to deal with a bitten wolf's crazy. 

Ashleigh pulled him away from the door and slammed him into the wall next to it. Because she didn't pull him far enough away, the door's frame edge dug into his back. His breath stuttered in his chest; his back ached as he was pressed harder into the door frame's edge. 

"You should be nicer to me," she growls, her icy blue eyes flashing at him. "I've been nice to you." 

"If this is your version of 'nice,' you really are nuts," Stiles muttered. 

With his hands free and Ashleigh focused on his face, he tried slipping his hand into his pocket and slowly as possible. The panic button was tucked in there, forgotten, but if he could just grab it and use it, he might find out that it actually is connected to some sort of security system. 

"Mates are supposed to be a perfect fit!" Ashleigh exclaimed. "You're supposed to—"

"I am already someone's mate," Stiles interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I'm not yours." 

She leaned in and sniffed him. "You smell so good. You smell like mine," she whispered. 

"And yet, I belong to someone else. And  _ he _ belongs to me." 

His fingers closed around the small device, but he never had to push it. Clay appeared behind Ashleigh and he successfully separated them. Ashleigh growled, but the sound wasn't nearly as threatening as Clay's answering growl. Ashleigh seemed to sense that she was outclassed; she didn't submit but she backed off by taking a step away from both of them. 

"Stellah, you got your keycard?" Clay asked as he kept staring down Ashleigh. 

"Y-yeah." 

"Go inside and make sure you're behind the ash," he said. "I'll call you on the hotel phone later to check in." 

"He's my mate!" Ashleigh hissed. 

Clay snorted. "He's really not," he said. "We all have a few people in the world whose scents feel right, but it's not set in stone. Bein' a worthy mate takes effort. Trust. Respect. You betrayed his trust. And the effort you've gone to has only shown how little you respect him." 

By the time Clay finished talking, Stiles had opened the door. He turned his head to look at both werewolves, but he knew he couldn't distract Clay in the middle of a standoff. Ashleigh looked confused; she could accept Clay's words as the truth and try to change her behaviour, or she could refuse to hear the honesty in his words and lash out at him. Stiles wouldn't pull Clay's focus and risk putting him in more danger. 

He heard Ashleigh whine, but he had no idea why she was making that sound. He didn't really care—so long as she didn't go after him that night or the next day. 

After closing the door on the insanity that had become his life, Stiles looked around the room. Everything seemed to be as he'd left it all. Once the werewolves were gone, he would check his phone. He didn't want Ashleigh to overhear his first priority was rummaging for a pair of boots; she might get curious and try to investigate. So, with that in mind, he abandoned his plan of texting his family and headed towards the shower. 

Everything would seem less dire after a long, hot scrub.


End file.
